


With the Last Beat of My Heart

by kereia



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Making Out, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:11:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kereia/pseuds/kereia
Summary: When the latest Trouble turns the citizens of Haven into hardcore Duke/Audrey shippers, it's up to two very reluctant lovebirds to figure out how to navigate their own feelings before they give everyone a heart attack.





	1. The New Normal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shopfront](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/gifts).



> So, ahem.. this may have gotten a little away from me. 
> 
> I just want to say that, as a fellow Haven shipper, I share your anger. So I could not walk past this prompt, even if I didn't exactly plan for this fic to turn into a multi-chapter monster. Hope you enjoy. ;)
> 
> * * *
> 
> Set during early season three, though Nathan and Audrey never kissed or became romantic. I also might have messed with the time line a little in terms of who knows what when at which point and for what reason during season three.

The small boat cuts across the waves, and Audrey impatiently tugs an errand strand of hair behind her ear while she braces herself against the motion.

It's a sunny day with nary a cloud to break up the endless canvas of bright, blue sky, but there's a promise of storms and rainfall in the humidity that has her clothes clinging to her skin. For the moment, at least, between the strong breeze and the spray of the surf, the afternoon heat is almost bearable.

Her calves ache after the three hour round trip from an isolated stretch of shore to the top of an even more isolated cliff top that left her exhausted and frustrated and without any of the answers she's looking for.

One of Duke's _friends_ (his emphasis, not hers, and it made her hands twitch toward the handcuffs at her belt) claimed to have seen a large building appear up on the cliff while he flew past it during a _business trip_  (again, Duke's emphasis) up the coast.

“ _Apparently, it just blinked into existence between one second and the next,” Duke said as he pushed a shot glass_ _full of amber liquid_ _across the polished_ _counter of his bar_ _. Crossing his arms on top of_ _it_ _, he leaned in close. “_ _Now, my friend does like to... indulge himself every now and then...”_

_Audrey's eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “He's flying a Cessna up the coast while he is drunk?”_

“ _No. No, of course not,” Duke assured her with a bright smile that's all straight, white teeth and pretty lies. “He's an upstanding citizen, my friend. Very responsible.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “The reliable sort, you know.”_

 _Audrey gave him a Look, and judging by the glint in Duke's_ _eyes, he was perfectly aware of the capital letter contained therein_ _. “I'm afraid I do,”_ _she said with a sigh._

_"Anyway," Duke said, "I figure that even if he'd been..." He waved a hand aimlessly in the air._

_"Indulging himself," Audrey finished with a roll of her eyes._

_Duke's smile widened. "Yeah. Even then, it seems an oddly specific thing to make up. Especially considering that we have been looking for this very same oddly specific thing for the past few weeks." He leaned in close to her, and Audrey caught the earthy scent of his aftershave._

_He smelled... good._

_Not that it mattered._

_"So what do you say? Shall we go and have a look? Might be worth checking out." For all his casual teasing, his voice was low and intimate, and Audrey swallowed heavily as she blindly reached for the shot glass and tipped it back._

_Her eyes fell closed at the sweet, sharp burn that rushed down her throat, and the sudden warmth that pooled in her stomach. She shrugged it off a moment later and fixed him with her best hard cop stare._

_"Yeah," she said still a little breathless. "Might be."_

It wasn't.

By the time they reached the cliff top, the building that was quickly becoming a noose around her neck was gone. They found its imprint in the clearing – a wide, rectangular swath of barren earth among the moss covered ground – but the barn itself once again eluded them. Which only made them wonder why it appeared on top of the cliff in the first place.

"I really wish we could figure out how you, the Troubles, and the barn fit together," Luke says as he steers their boat around a small cluster of islands. (They're hardly more than a bunch of rocks jutting out above the waves, but there are underwater reefs he has to avoid, so they have to get further away from the coast, before they can loop back to the shore.)

Audrey laughs hollowly. She keeps her back to him and her gaze fixed on the cresting waves.

"Duke, that's practically all I think about these days. What if the Troubles are somehow fabricated inside the barn and not just contained by it? What if I, or whoever I am inside the barn, is responsible for creating them? What if I caused all that pain and misery..." she shudders,"...and all these deaths? And what if I can't fix it? What if it's all my fault, and I can never make it right?"

She wraps her arms around herself and closes her eyes. Usually, she tries not to let her fears get the better of her, but time is running out, and she spent too many nights awake lately, wondering – running through every imaginable scenario, every possibility that could explain why she is here, how she even exists – and, well... she'd be lying if she claimed that her thoughts didn't turn progressively darker every time another lead turned into a dead end.

"Hey," Duke says as he comes up behind her. The motor tappers out, and Audrey automatically adjust her footing to balance out the sudden loss of forward momentum. "You can't let yourself think like that."

His touches her shoulder, and it's tentative and a little awkward because she's been careful to maintain her distance to him, even though the line between her duties as a police officer and his blatant flaunting of the law have become more than a little blurred over the past months.

"You help people. That's what you've been doing since the moment you got here."

She shakes her head. "I know, Duke. What I don't know is why? Why me? I'm getting to the point, where the question of who I am is taking a back seat to the question of _what_ I am, and I just... " she shrugs his hand off, not because his touch makes her uncomfortable, but because it makes it too easy to lean back into him.

"I don't like it." she finishes lamely, knowing how inadequate those words are to describe what's going on inside her.

She can hear Duke shift behind her, but her gaze stays on the distant shoreline. It's hard to admit, but she's a little afraid of what she might see in his face, should she turn around.

The ocean is restless around them, the waves getting higher, not dangerously so – not yet – but she can practically feel the drop in the air pressure heralding the storm that's about to descend on them.

"Not sure what you want me to say to that, Audrey. Far as I'm concerned, you're human." he laughs. "You're perhaps the most human person, I've ever met."

She glances over her shoulder at that and finds him self-consciously rubbing the back of his neck.

To her own embarrassment, she feels her throat close up.

"Thank you," she says haltingly. She isn't sure if she believes him, but she thinks that maybe it's exactly what she needs to hear.

She reaches out to squeeze his hand in silent apology for pulling away earlier, but something catches her eyes, and her hand falls squarely against his chest instead.

"Duke?" she says, a note of urgency slipping into her voice as she tries to find the flash of movement she saw in the water.

He blinks, his gaze riveted to where her palm rests solidly against his body. "Yes?"

Audrey leans around him, pushing him back. Her eyes scan the surface of the ocean. There was something. Floating. Thrashing. Did she hear a splash or was that her imagination?

Then a tiny skiff emerges from between the islands they just circumnavigated, and her eyes alight on the shadow floating before it.

She starts. "Duke, there's a body in the water."

"Oh, shit."

To his credit, he doesn't hesitate but rushes toward the transom to start up the outboard motor.

Audrey kicks off her shoes and unbuckles her holster.

"Be careful," Duke shouts after her as she dives head-first into the water. He says something else, but the weight of the ocean closes over her, drowning out the sound of his voice. She can feel the pull of the waves – an undertow caused by the reefs that tears at her – and she kicks her legs hard to move against it. Thankfully, it's not strong enough to cause her serious trouble, but it still takes her longer to reach the body than she would like. She breaks the surface with a gasp, sucking air into her lungs as she reaches for the piece of black fabric floating before her.

It's part of a jacket that's tangled up around the body of a man, and between his gray hair and the frailty of his bones in her grasp, he must be in his eighties. He's floating motionless in the current, and Audrey's heart is sinking when she realizes that she's probably too late.

Still, she manages to turn him around and loop her arms around his chest before she kicks back with her legs, dragging him towards the boat which Duke has carefully maneuvered between the reefs.

His long arms reach down, and once he has a firm grip, Audrey lets go and dives underneath the boat. She comes up on the opposite side and hoists herself up, keeping her weight on the gunwale, so Duke can safely haul the man's body onto the deck without their small boat tipping over.

By the time she slides fully into the boat, Duke is already administering CPR, and Audrey scrambles to help him with the chest compressions.

They share a look as Duke bends down again, and she can see it in his eyes, the same resignation that filled her the moment she put her hands on the man's arm, the fear that they're too late, and that she has to send one more body to the morgue today – the way she does at least twice a week, the way she will do until her time runs out and the barn reappears and she will be forced to leave.

Something rebels inside her at the thought, a surge of anger rising high and strong that she wasn't sure she still had in her.

"No," she says and redoubles her efforts. "Not this one. Not today." She throws her whole weight into the compressions and hears the man's ribs crack beneath her hands. "You're not dying today. Do you hear me?"

"Audrey," Duke says gently, but she ignores him.

"No," she repeats. "Keep going. I am not giving up on him, yet."

There is something in Duke's eyes she cannot decipher, but he bends his head, pulls the man's jaw down and breathes air into his lungs.

She loses track of time. Her wrist ache, and her entire world narrows down to Duke counting the beats between his breaths, and it's only when she starts cursing and shouting that he reaches over and covers her hands with his own.

"Audrey," he begins again. His voice is impossibly soft and sad and gentle, and she hates it, hates the sound of it, hates the _pity_ in his eyes.

"No," she growls and pushes down hard and desperate, unrelenting.

It comes as a shock when the body lurches beneath her palm, when a cough rakes through flooded lungs, and the man convulses on the deck, coughing up sea water.

For a moment, Duke blinks at her in awe, and then he laughs, obviously as surprised as she is.

He helps her turn the man onto his side.

Duke briefly rubs his back until his coughs turn to painful gasps.

“I'm going to call an ambulance to meet us at the dock,” Audrey says and reaches for the phone she'd dropped into one of her shoes.

Duke stops her by cupping her cheek, and her whole body goes perfectly still.

"Guess you saved another one," he says softly.

Her gaze flies up to his face, and she thinks that maybe – just maybe – their trip wasn't a complete waste of time. That maybe for today, at least, she will be alright.

 

* * *

 

By the time they make it back to the harbor, the sun is just starting to vanish behinds the trees, and the wind buffets their small boat to a degree that unsettles her stomach and forces her to sit down lest she lose her balance and fall overboard.

The ambulance arrives before they even reach the dock.

The man passed out again after giving them a dazed look. Audrey isn't sure if he is aware what happened to him.

She looks on as he's loaded into the ambulance, and for some reason the EMTs keep smiling wierdly at her, until she decides to head home. Since she didn't find a wallet or ID in the man's pockets, Audrey tells the uniform who came down from the station to find out his name and keep her posted.

Having done all she can, she says her goodbyes to Duke and heads towards her car, one of the blankets the paramedics gave her tugged beneath her arm. She throws it over the seat so as not to soak the upholstery and drives home desperate for a shower, dry clothes, and something to eat.

The first thing she notices as she trudges up the stairs behind the Grey Gull, is that the lights in her apartment are on. However, it was still dark outside when she left that morning, so she reasons that she might have simply forgotten to turn them off.

She opens the door and automatically reaches over to drop her keys into the small seashell-studded driftwood bowl on the sideboard, and is surprised when they slide across the wood instead, before falling behind it because the bowl is no longer there. She frowns and looks around, ignoring the steady drip of sea water that falls from her clothes onto the floor, creating a puddle around her feet.

Her candles are gone. So are the seaside themed nicknacks that she kept scattered around the room in an attempt to create something warm and cozy and entirely her own – a place Audrey Parker could call home – a place she could come back to and, on a good day, she wouldn't even worry if it was a place that Lucy or Sarah or whoever she was before them would also have liked to call their own.

Her hand drifts to her weapon, and she pulls it instinctively when the door to her bathroom opens.

She quells the muscle memories that urge her to raise her arms and sight along the barrel when Nathan steps out of the room, his neutral expression shifting to surprise when he sees her with her gun in her hand.

"Audrey," he says with a worried smile. "What... is everything alright?"

He's naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist, and his hair is dripping just as much as her own, though judging from the steam billowing through the open bathroom door, Audrey doubts that he feels anywhere near as clammy and uncomfortable as she does.

She holsters her gun. "Sorry. No, it's fine. I just didn't..." she takes a breath. "Nathan, not that you're not welcome to use my shower, but what are you doing here?"

His eyebrows twitch upwards. " _Your_ shower?"

There's a feeling Audrey is familiar with by now. It usually starts at the base of her spine and slowly creeps upwards until it settles just at the nape of her neck. It hits her whenever things don't quite make sense, which in Haven is pretty much every single day. That same feeling tingles along her spinal cord now as she takes in Nathan's befuddled expression. However, it's been a long, _long_ day. Her muscles are sore from the climb across uneven terrain, her clothes are wet, and she is frustrated, so she ignores the feeling and kicks off her shoes.

"Yes, Nathan. My shower. In my apartment. In which you are currently standing. Half-naked. And where is all of my stuff?" she finishes with an irritated grunt as she bends down to take off her socks.

Nathan runs a hand through his hair, his expression worried. He steps closer. "You took all your stuff with you when you moved in with Duke." He pauses and veers off course towards the shelf behind the sofa. "Actually, you forgot one of those sea gull doohickeys." he says retrieving a little porcelain figurine that she remembers buying at a souvenir shop down at the pier a few days after she arrived in Haven.

It's tacky and sentimental, and it was exactly what she'd wanted to remember her work trip to the sea side, back when she was still searching for a rational explanation for the weather phenomenons that killed the escaped prisoner she was tracking – back when she had no idea that she would stay.

"I've been meaning to give this to you for the past few days, but I kept forgetting to bring it along."

He offers the sea gull to her, but Audrey doesn't take it. Instead, she stares at him uncomprehendingly, and the tingling sensation burrows between her shoulder blades.

"Since I moved in with Duke?" she repeats his words.

Nathan nods. Slowly. There's a worried frown on his face, and Audrey can't help but wonder if he feels that same shiver along his own back.

"Yes, you moved in with him last week. Don't you remember?"

Audrey leans back against the wall. "Oh no. No please, not today."

"Audrey?" Nathan is beside her in an instant, ducking his head to meet her eyes and putting a comforting hand on her upper arm. The instant his hand touches her soaked shirt, a frown appears on his face, and he suddenly takes in her drenched appearance as if it had eluded him up until now.

"What happened to you?"

"It's a Trouble." she replies, foregoing an explanation of her water-logged clothing and choosing to address the more pertinent problem. There's a cold lump inside her stomach. "It changed things. I don't know how or why or who, Nathan, but I still live here."

She casts a forlorn look around at the spartan surroundings that used to be a place for her to relax and recharge before she faced another day in the supernatural chaos that is Haven.

"When I left here this morning, this was my home. I didn't move in with Duke."

Nathan actually looks shocked at that. "But you love him," he says and squeeze her arm.

"No, I don't." The rebuttal is instantaneous, and if it leaves her mouth perhaps a little too quickly then she's putting it down to the stress and the long hours of the day.

Nathan's expression shifts to something understanding, though she can't help but feel that there might be a hint of condescension in his tone.

"Did you two fight?" he asks. "Because trust me, Parker. Every couple fights. It's no reason for you to run off and hide here."

Pushing his arm away, Audrey straightens. "No, you don't understand. We didn't fight. And I didn't run away. I'm saying that Duke and I are not together, Nathan. We're friends. Sort of. Some of the time. But we're definitely not in love."

Nathan shakes his head and steps back. "Don't say that."

"No, it's true. Something must have happened while Duke and I were away from Haven this afternoon. Something that makes you think that you live here, because I moved out."

To her surprise, Nathan raises his hands as if to ward off a blow. He looks pale. "That's not what happened. I was looking for a place to stay while my house is getting fumigated, and Duke told me that I could stay here, since you were moving in with him. That didn't happen this morning, Parker. That was five days ago."

"If it was five days ago, then how come I woke up here – in this very room – this morning?" she challenges him.

She can't quite suppress the note of irritation in her voice, because she doesn't understand why Nathan doesn't believe her. He always believes her. They're a team. They have each other's back, and he's spent his entire life in Haven. If anyone should know how much the Troubles can mess with one's life and perception it's him.

But Nathan is obstinate.

"You were with Duke this morning. You love him," he insists, and Audrey is a little alarmed when his face turns ashes as if the very notion that she and Duke could not be together would bring about the end of the world.

"Nathan," she tries again, pitching her voice low, trying to calm him. "It's okay. We are going to figure this out. Alright?" She takes both of his hands, which he's still holding out in front of him, and gives them a reassuring squeeze. "We always figure these things out. But I need you with me, okay? Nathan, I need my partner right now. I need you to believe me."

His eyes are wide. "You love Duke," he repeats helplessly.

Audrey shakes her head. "No. I don't."

He takes a shuddering breath, and suddenly his whole body jolts. A gasps tears out of his throat as he doubles over and clutches his chest.

Audrey darts forward calling his name, but he sags, and she can do nothing but ease him onto the ground as he loses consciousness.

 


	2. Attitude Adjustment

The storm is picking up by the time Duke boards the Cape Rouge. He's pushing his car keys into the back pocket of his pants when he sees Claire rising from one of the chairs he keeps scattered around the deck for the rare occasionson when he's entertaining guests, or hosting an impromptu poker match.

Though considering how the last one turned out, he decided to forgo those for a while.

"Evening, Claire. What can I do for you?" he asks, cautiously.

It's not that he dislikes her. Claire's a very friendly person. In her line of work, she has to be.

And it is exactly said line of work that makes him guarded.

That Haven needs a psychologist who doesn't flinch when they're confronted with some of the town's more peculiar issues – who can think outside the box and find unusual solutions for people with unusual problems – is something he understands, and, in a vague way, even appreciates.

As long as it doesn't directly concern him.

The thing is, he very much doubts that Claire would ever approach him in a purely social capacity, and he just doesn't see any necessity for him to pour his heart out to a shrink. He's always handled his problems on his own, and, as far as he's concerned, he's been doing a perfectly fine job.

In fact, he doesn't really think that he has any problems at all apart from his Trouble (That may or may not give him the occasional nightmare. But that's okay. That's normal. Who wouldn't feel a tiny little bit of anxiety when coming in contact with the blood of a Troubled person gives them a power rush unlike anything they've ever experienced before? All he has to do is not get blood on himself. That's not too hard. Even if this is Haven.)

And so what if there may be certain moral deliberations in the forefront of his mind now that he knows he can eradicate a Trouble forever, if he kills a person of the bloodline that carries it? It's not as if he has any intention to actually kill people.

(Except that he has done it twice now, but that wasn't by choice. They both wanted to die rather than pass on their Trouble to their children. It was an act of mercy. That doesn't mean that there is any reason for him to feel guilty about it. Or ashamed. Or wonder if there isn't a part of him – buried somewhere deep, deep down – that maybe secretly enjoyed it. Because he definitely didn't. It was their choice, and he was just an instrument.)

So there really isn't any reason why he needs to talk to Claire.

And he definitely doesn't feel relieved when she smiles at him and tells him that she is looking for Audrey.

"She's at the Gull. We just got back from the marina," Duke replies.

Claire nods understandingly. "Oh, that explains why she didn't answer my texts," she says offhandedly while she pulls out her phone. "Any idea how long it'll take her to catch up with Nathan? Because I can wait."

Duke frowns. "Nathan's at the Gull?"

"Well, yes. He _does_ live there, now."

There's a sinking feeling in his stomach, which he tries very hard to ignore. His mouth opens and closes, before it falls into a bright, open smile that's about as sincere as Vince's assurances that he knows absolutely nothing about the Guard.

"Right, he lives there now. Of course, he does. I... I totally knew that." He laughs and turns away, bending low to wrench open an old, weather-worn crate that serves as a cupboard now. Taking out a bottle of scotch and two shot glasses, he offers one to Claire. She declines with a slight shake of her head, and a shallow v forms between her eyebrows as she takes him in.

"I should hope you do," she tells him as he opens the bottle and decides to forgo the shot glass in favor of drinking straight from the neck. "You did offer the place to him, now that Audrey doesn't need it any longer."

The alcohol burns down his throat, and the sting is just harsh enough that it takes him a moment for the words to penetrate the image of Audrey and Nathan shacked up together in the small apartment above his restaurant, laughing over dinner, making love in her bed, probably cuddling on her couch, for Pete's sake.

 _Yes_ , he thinks with what he tells himself is disgust, they are both absolutely the cuddly type.

Probably.

Especially with Nathan not being able to feel anyone but her.

Whereas _he_ is definitely _not_ the cuddly type. At all. Which is a good thing. Definitely. Because he's _not_ the one cuddling with Audrey on a couch, anyway. So that works out fine. Everything's just... fine.

It's little wonder that he's taken aback, once Clair's words _do_ register.

"Hold on. What? Why doesn't Audrey need the space anymore?"

Claire puts her phone away, her expression worried – in what Duke can only call a professional capacity – and it puts him on edge.

"Are you trying to pull my leg right now, or are you serious?"

The sinking feeling in his stomach deepens, and he decides to swallow the sarcastic quip that hovers on his tongue. "No, I'm serious. What happened to Audrey?"

As it turns out he can apparently cram half a live-time of thoughts and feelings into mere seconds, because before Claire can reply, his mind is running through every possibly explanation. and he doesn't like any of them.

There's a flash of anger as he considers that this might be about the barn and her having less than three weeks left before she's supposed to walk into it and disappear. She might have moved out in order to get some distance to the space she tried to make into a home, and the idea that she's given up, that she won't fight this any longer, hurts more than he thought possible.

It's unacceptable.

He won't have it. He won't let her give up her life and her mind and her memories, and there's a sharp sting inside his chest that feels like... betrayal.

Because he'd thought that they were on the same page, that she and him and Nathan would move mountains and change the tides in order to end the Troubles and find a way for her to stay.

He takes a deep breath to counter the tightness in his chest.

No. The Audrey he saw today was tired and worried, maybe even a little afraid, but she was also fierce and determined and refused to give up hope, willing a man's heart to beat long after Duke gave up on him.

The Audrey to whom he said goodbye in the harbor didn't given up, yet. And it wouldn't explain why Claire believed Nathan moved into her apartment, anyway, so basically, he reflects, he's been standing on board his ship in a silent panic for the better part of half a minute for absolutely no reason.

Because Claire is obviously wrong. And, seeing as Claire is in no way inferior to Audrey where frightening competence is concerned, there can really only be one reason as to _why_ she is wrong.

He groans and caps the bottle.

"This is a Trouble, isn't it?" he asks at the same time Claire says, "You asked her to move in with you."

He blinks. "Come again?"

Claire approaches him slowly her hands held up by her side as if he's some sort of skittish animal she needs to sooth.

"Last weekend, you asked Audrey to move in with you? You were at the fair? The harbor festival? Don't you remember? I don't think I've _ever_ seen you this happy before. Dave and Vince even took a picture."

Shaking his head, Duke takes a step back. Some really complicated feelings get stirred up by the images Claire is putting into his brain, and he doesn't want to think about them.

"That never happened." He was at the fair, but not to celebrate the harbor anniversary. His presence there had a slightly less festive reason, (of which Audrey would almost certainly disapprove) thought he would agree that he was definitely happy by the time he left. The reason being the two grand in his pockets rather than Audrey agreeing to live with him, though.

He tells himself that's just as good, and then internally rolls his eyes, because he's being ridiculous.

Claire sighs. "You have no memory of that at all?" She reaches for her purse. "You're right. That does sound like a Trouble. We have to do something. You can't go through life not remembering how much you love Audrey. That's too cruel. Let's get you to the Gull. Maybe seeing Audrey will jog your memory."

He's torn between protesting that there's nothing wrong with his memory and wondering why of all the people in Haven this particular Trouble decided to mess with him, but the frantic way with which Claire is rummaging around her purse, presumably looking for the car keys that are dangling from the pocket of her coat, gives him pause.

The sun set less than ten minutes ago, but even in the sparse lighting of the harbor he notes the sudden paleness of Clair's face, and now that he thinks about it, her bemoaning the cruelty of him not remembering his feelings (alleged feelings, he reminds himself) for Audrey is decidedly out of character for her. Claire is a practical person, kind, yes, but ultimately goal-oriented. She's never struck him as overly romantic.

He rubs a hand across his face and snatches the keys from her pockets, holding them out to her.

"Claire," he tries, "I haven't been in Haven all day. The Trouble is not affecting me. It's affecting everyone else. I am not in lo... I am not _with_ Audrey. I have never been with Audrey. She and Nathan are... well, they're Audrey and Nathan, and I have no intention of getting between those two moony-eyed idiots, because let's face it. I'm not that guy. I'm the guy who loves them and leaves them, and everyone has a good time and that's that."

After all, one failed marriage was more than enough to dissuade him of his notions that Happy Ever Afters exist.

Certainly not in a town like Haven.

He straightens his shoulders. "We should go to the Gull, though. I'm going to need Audrey's help to figure this out."

Claire is looking at him with wide eyes, and he's completely dumbstruck when he sees tears swimming in them.

"How can you say that?" she sobs and pushes against his chest. It catches him off-guard, and he takes a step back.

"Waoh. Okay. Calm down, Claire."

"You love Audrey. You've always loved Audrey. You can't live without her, Duke. You just can't." Tears are rolling down her cheeks, and Duke, whose never been comfortable with displays of emotions, is at a loss.

"Hey," he says softly, mimicking how she approached him mere minutes ago. "It's okay. We'll figure this out."

Claire punches his chest. Her eyes look too big within her stricken expression, and her skin has turned ashen.

"There's nothing to figure out," she wails, hysterically, as Duke tries to wrap his arms around her to keep her from hitting him again. "You can't live without Audrey."

She moans, and suddenly she stiffens in his arms, her body sagging against him.

"Claire" he shouts as he takes her weight and gently lowers her to the ground.

Her hand reaches up to cup his cheek even as her eyes are rolling into the back of her head, and Duke's heart is hammering wildly in his chest as he fights off his rising panic.

"You love her so much," Claire whispers hauntingly before she loses consciousness, leaving him to scramble for his phone.

He hates this town. He hates the Troubles. He hates his entire damn life.

 

* * *

 

He calls an ambulance and texts Audrey, who tells him that's she's at the hospital. So, he follows the ambulance back into town.

Considering the special needs of Haven's citizens, and the frequency with which they require medical attention (or confinement as the case may be), Haven General is uncommonly quiet when he arrives. Visiting hours have long come and gone, and with the exception of doctors and nursing staff, he only sees a couple of custodians walking down the hall, both pushing their cleaning carts before them as they argue about the latest local baseball game.

Audrey greets him on the second floor, wearing a self-deprecating smile amidst a worried expression. "Hey, lover-boy."

Duke just shakes his head, though there's amusement hiding in the corners of his mouth. "Don't start. This whole thing is just..." he spreads his hands out in front of him, ".. so bizarre."

"Tell me about it," she replies before she sits down in one of the plastic chairs that line the bland, grey hallway and smooths her palms along her thighs. She's changed into Nathan's clothes and wears a shirt that's about three sizes to big on her and sweatpants that she rolled up several times over at the legs.

If they were here under different circumstances, he'd say that she looks adorable.

If it were his clothes instead of Nathan's, he'd...

He shuts that thought down hard.

It doesn't matter. Especially considering the reason they're both here.

"Nathan's had a heart attack," she says quietly.

Sitting down next to her, Duke flips a lock of hair out of his face. "So did Claire. And one of the paramedics."

He shrugs apologetically when he catches her gaze. "It took me a moment to figure it out."

Audrey gives him a sympathetic look. "Yeah, I just went along with it when they got to the Gull. Figured it wasn't worth the argument." She sighs. "The doctors and nurses keep telling me how glad they are that we finally got together."

He laughs humorlessly. "Yeah. I had to tell the paramedics that they need to stop suggesting wedding locations and start paying attention to their patients."

A sound escapes her mouth, something half-way between a huff and a groan. "This town. I swear. I turn my back for half a day..."

She doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't have to.

She rubs her hands over her face, and Duke reaches out to touch her shoulder.

 _She looks tired_ , he thinks, and he wonders if she slept at all since he told her about the meteor storm that supposedly heralds the end of her time in Haven. He suspects she didn't. He, too, spent more than one restless night trying to think his way out of what increasingly feels inevitable.

"Any theories?" he asks her gently.

She turns her head and smiles softly, before she covers his hand with her own. "Not yet, but I am glad that you're here."

There's a sudden lump in his throat which he loosens with a laugh. "Yeah, well..."

He doesn't really know how to finish that sentence, and to his relief he doesn't have to. The door across from them opens, just as he pulls his hand away from Audrey's shoulder. He flexes his fingers, unthinkingly trying to shake off the lingering warmth of her touch.

The woman who steps out into the hallway is taller than he is, and wears her starched, white coat on shoulders almost as board as his own. The only thing breaking up the monotony of the fabric is the pen in her breast pocket and the long, blond braid that falls over her shoulder. Her eyes light up behind her simple, wire-frame glasses the second she sees them.

"Why, if it isn't Haven's most popular lovebirds," she says with a smile.

"We're not..." he starts then bites his tongue as the memory of Claire's tear-streaked face, ghostly pale and motionless, flashes before his eyes. "We're..."

"...so in love," Audrey finishes as she loops her arm around his elbow and threads their fingers together where his hand rests on his thigh.

He looks away and swallows thickly. He's usually far more suave than this, but for some reason his practiced nonchalance eludes him right now.

"Yeah," he agrees, painfully aware that his own smile falls woefully short of the sincerity which Audrey manages to project. It feels too wide on his face – as if his facial muscles are manipulated by an inept puppeteer.

Though the woman introduces herself as Dr. Sanderson, she doesn't give them a chance to ask about Claire or Nathan. Instead, she joins the ranks of Haven residents who've become fascinated by his and Audrey's non-existent relationship.

"You know, the minute I saw your picture in the Herald, I turned to my wife and said: 'That's true love, Lara. Just like us.'" She pushes her glasses up her nose and sighs contentedly.

"Sometimes you look at a couple, and you just know they're going to make it, no matter what. And that's you. You're so perfect together." A hand flutters up to her chest, and he can feel Audrey stiffen beside him.

But Dr. Sanderson doesn't have a heart attack. If anything, she's positively glowing, and, as if this whole situation weren't uncomfortable enough as it is, she goes on: "It makes me so happy to see you two together. My wife and I framed that picture, you know. Hung it up in our bedroom, so it's the first thing we see when we wake up every morning, and the last thing before we..."

"O-kay," he interrupts and jumps to his feet, because he could have happily lived his entire life without that information.

"That's... nice. We're– we're very flattered, Audrey and I." He's a charmer, he knows, and has honed natural aptitude with years of practice. He has talked his way out of impossible situations, flirted his way into some very pleasant ones as well, and it takes all of that practice to smooth the grimace on his face into an expression that reflects his words.

He doesn't know this woman, and he's sure that, under normal circumstance, she'd be a perfectly amiable, rational person. She's doctor, for Pete's sake. Presumably, it's a job she chose because she wants to help people. 

Nevertheless, it's a bit of a struggle to remind himself that Dr. Sanderson is someone he doesn't know, someone who has never injured him, and someone who's not in control of herself right now – someone who will probably be thoroughly embarrassed once he and Audrey solve this Trouble, and she comes home to find a picture of two people with whom she has no connection on her bedroom wall.

Belatedly, he realizes that he's still holding on to Audrey's hand and has inadvertently pulled her with him when he stood.

She looks a little amused at his sudden reaction, but instead of letting go of him, she steps closer and leans her head against his shoulder, while she maintains her sunny smile for Dr. Sanderson's benefit.

He can feel her weight settle there, see the dark circles shimmering beneath the make up around her eyes, and knows that if it were up to her – if she were another person, living a different life – she would crawl into the nearest bed and sleep through the next century.

But she is Audrey Parker, and will be for at least another twenty days (more, _infinitely_ more, if he has any say in it) and she's always on the clock, because there's no rest for the wicked, the Troubled, or those that try to help them.

"Can you tell us anything about Claire and Nathan?" she asks, and her tone is sweet and kind and just a little bit worried. Duke suddenly realizes that he's probably the only one, aside from Nathan, who can hear the razor-sharp edge beneath it, the impatience and annoyance and sheer frustration that she always holds back and buries deep, lest one wrong word from her makes what is usually an already volatile and painful situation unimaginably worse.

Audrey always struck him as naturally positive and level-headed. He's never given much thought to the amount of pressure she puts on herself – the amount of pressure the Troubled put on her – with all their fears and desperate hopes for her to save them. The realization comes with a substantial sense of guilt, and he wishes he could apologize for all the times he may have taken her for granted.

It will have to wait. He knows opportunities will be few and far between, but waiting in a hospital hallway while they don't know if their friends will be okay, is neither the right time nor the right place.

Even if the doctor finally seems to remember her profession.

"Why, of course. I am so sorry. I got carried away a little there." Dr, Sanderson looks a little flustered. "It's just... well, it's so romantic," she says, and there's a slightly dazed look in her eyes that makes him think he was too optimistic, and that she's already forgotten Audrey's question.

Audrey seem to share that fear, because she finally let's go of his hand and places it gently on the doctor's arm, drawing her attention. "Are they going to be alright?" she asks sinking just enough steel into her voice to make the woman start. It does seem to do the trick. Her dazed look disappears, and she lifts a hand to rub two fingers between the narrow gap above her nose.

 _She is really good at what she does_ , Duke realizes not for the first time with a quiet sense of awe, as he shoves his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.

"I... yes. I do apologize. I'm very sorry about your friends." Dr. Sanderson steps aside so they can see Nathan's unconscious body resting in the hospital bed behind her.

"He hasn't woken up, yet. We're not entirely sure why, but we'll keep him under observation. He is stable, so he should be fine. You are welcome to stay with him for a moment, while I ask about your other friend. Claire Callahan, was it? The nurses told me she came in while I was assessing Chief Wuornos."

 

* * *

 

Audrey nods her assent and enters the room, trusting Duke to follow her.

Nathan looks deceptively peaceful among the fluffy bedding. His complexion holds nothing of the alarming parlour with which he collapsed into her arms.

She rest her hand on his forehead and feels something inside her unwind – a tightness in her chest that she hadn't fully been aware of until the pressure eased.

 _He's going to be alright_ , she thinks. She doesn't know where that certainty comes from, but as with so many other things in Haven, she trusts her instincts.

"We need to figure out who's causing this," Duke says as he steps up beside her.

She nods. "Yes, and we need to do it fast. Because the more time we need to solve this, the less time I have to figure out how I can stay."

There's a bitter taste inside her mouth, and she's fairly sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she hasn't eaten anything since breakfast.

It's not that she doesn't know that she cannot catch a break – she's been in Haven long enough to realize that there aren't any off-days – it's just that with time running out, it's starting to get to her.

Duke clears his throat and rubs his hands together. "Alright, then. In that case I have a very important question for you. Have you had diner, yet?"

His expression is all gravitas, but there's twinkle in his eyes, and Audrey has to smile in spite of her frustration. She appreciates that he's trying to bring some levity to this situation. It's one of his more charming qualities – of which he has many.

At the mere mention of food, her stomach starts to ache. "No, I haven't. I don't even know if there's anything in my fridge now that I apparently don't live above the Gull anymore."

"Yeah, mine's pretty much empty, too." He smiles conspiratorially. "Lucky for us, I own a restaurant."

As much as her mouth waters at the thought of a well done cut of venison, she's not sure if that's a good idea.

"You own a restaurant that's going to be packed with people, who – judging by the past hour – are going to be creepily over-invested in our epic romance. Not to mention what will happen to them, if we don't assure them how much we... " She makes an aimless gesture with her hand and hopes she isn't blushing as she clears her throat. "... you know... love each other."

She can't quite meet his eyes as she says it, but her gaze flicks up furtively and snags at the mischievous gleam on his face.

"Trust me, Audrey. I have a plan," is all he says in return, and she's not even a little surprised that she does.

 

 


	3. Interlopers

They make it to the Gull just before the rain turns from a drizzle into a downpour.

His first action, upon entering the door, is to hop up onto the bar counter and announce that the restaurant is closed, meals already on the tables are free and will be packed up to take back home, same goes for drinks served at the bar.

There's a a rumble of protest from his regulars. The tourists are still too stunned to do anything but gape at him, though he knows that will change as soon as they figure out that he's not joking. They'll be sure to compensate for their delayed reaction with the sort of entitled outrage that's common among tourists everywhere, and that he's long learned to circumnavigate just like every resident of tourist towns around the world.

"I am truly sorry to cut your evening short," he continues as he finds his stride. "But Audrey and I..." he pauses and moves his jaw for a second, testing out the words before he corrects himself. " _My_ _girlfriend_ and I would like to spend a romantic evening by candle light here without any of you charming people to interrupt our... conversations."

He winks down at Audrey, who's standing at the bar with a bemused expression on her face. Her eyes narrow at his suggestive tone, and her fingers tap lightly against the holstered gun at her belt.

It only makes his smiles widen, and he risks another wink for good measure.

Audrey rolls her eyes.

He's banking on the Trouble's effects to smooth the way, and it seems as if his calculation will pay off. He can hear some disgruntled mumbling every now and then as his employees hurry to pack up the food on the tables, and his customers empty their glasses, but most of them walk past the counter with knowing smiles, wishing them well and expressing their own happiness that Audrey and Duke made them believe in true love again... or some such nonsense.

Truth be told, he's only half listening at that point.

The photograph in the Herald is mentioned more than once, and one of his customers – a middle-aged tourist covered in tattoos and leather apparel – even brandishes the newspaper at him, asking for their autographs.

He's... very insistent, and it's Audrey, who relents first and signs her name with a cheerful smile, while she tries to incinerate him with her eyes.

Duke blindly scribbles on the paper, his attention on Audrey, who's lively facade is beginning to crack when another man rushes forward to shake her hand, telling her how their love rejuvenated his own marriage, and Duke is fairly sure, that by "marriage" he means "sex life", and he's happy for the guy, he really is, but he's also had enough.

Judging by the way Audrey pulls her hand away and shoos him off to his spouse, her patience is running out as well.

He breathes a sigh of relief when the last patrons file out. He tells his servers to go home, and that he'll lock up on his own.

"Well, that worked... reasonably well," he says as he jumps down from the bar. "If we can't solve this Trouble, we might want to petition the mayor to update his evacuation protocols."

"You think 'remain calm and leave in an orderly fashion, because Duke and Audrey would like to have a date' is more effective than warning against the latest disaster outright?" She shakes her head, though he can't tell if it's because of the absurdity of his idea, or the absurdity of her entire life. She is smiling, however, and it's a real smile, so he takes it as a win.

Instead of answering, he spreads his arms to encompass the entire room, seeing as the empty space kind of, sort of, maybe means that his idea is not as far out there as she thinks it is.

Which is, of course, the moment, he realizes that they are, in fact, not alone at all.

"Why are you guys lurking in the corner?" He scowls at Vince and Dave. "Can't you two busybodies let us have some peace?"

Vince is distractedly rummaging around in his messenger bag, but Dave all but jumps at him, chin jutting out in his customary, confrontational way. "Now, Duke, that's no way to talk to us. Especially now, that we've made you famous."

"I've been on the front page of the Herald before," Duke replies, though, to be fair, his presence in the paper has been less about fame than notoriety. As much as he hates to admit it, Vince and Dave are very adept at sniffing out a shady business deal when they come across it's trail.

"Not for anything like this," Dave counters, his thoughts obviously running along the same lines. "Not for something that makes you look like a decent person for once."

"Hey," Audrey interjects as she steps up to him. "There's no need for that."

"Why not? It's not as if he's ever put in an honest day of work in his entire life."

"It's pretty rich of you saying that, when you're sitting in his restaurant at least twice a week, eating his food," Audrey shoots back, and Duke's stomach does a weird little flip, hearing her defend him like this.

It's Vince, who breaks the two of them apart.

"Audrey," he begins, clasping her hand between both of his own. "We are happy for you. We truly are. We can't think of anyone who deserves to be loved more than you do, but... well, I know we're just two presumptuous old men, but we've come to think of you as a– as a daughter of sorts, and we both can't help but feel that you're too good for this scoundrel."

His gaze flicks up to the scoundrel in question. "No offense," he adds apologetically.

"Oh, none taken," he replies in a clipped tone. It's not that he doesn't agree with Vince, if he's completely honest with himself,  (Then again, when is he ever completely honest with himself?) but it stings to have it said out loud.

He's about to tell Vince and Dave where they can shove their 'fatherly concerns,' when he notes the contemplative expression on Audrey's face.

"You're the first people I met this evening who are not happy that Duke and I are together," she says thoughtfully.

"Oh, no," Dave assures her. "We are happy for you. Even a blind man can see how much the two of you love each other." He brandishes a copy of the Haven Herald at them, and yep, it's the one with the photograph. Duke takes it, just so it's not thrust into his face any longer, and, for the first time, he actually looks at the picture of him and Audrey.

His throat goes dry.

It's... It's definitely them. At the harbor festival. Looking at each other like a pair of besotted teenagers.

He takes a deep breath.

It's fake, he reminds himself. It's didn't actually happen, because he has no memory of seeing Audrey at the fair ground that day. He definitely doesn't remember picking her up like that, and he knows with absolute certainty that there is no power in Haven or earth that could make him forget Audrey wrapping her legs around his waist while he hoisted her up against his chest so she could look down at him with soft eyes and an even softer smile while her arms rest casually around his shoulders.

He all but slams the newspaper face down on the table.

There's a rushing sound in his ears that almost drowns out Audrey's continued conversation with Vince and Dave, but enough snippets about him needing to clean up his act and proving himself worthy penetrate his brain to make him cringe.

"We have every hope that the two of you getting together is only the first step for Duke," Dave says with a smile full of sincerity. He means every word of what he says.

"Yes. We're sure, you'll keep him on the straight and narrow," Vince adds while he pats her hand.

"Sure. Cleaning up my boyfriend's life. That's the full time job, I always wanted," she replies acerbically.

And he knows... he _knows_ that she's not serious, that the remark isn't even directed at him, but something inside his chest goes cold.

He wants this to stop. He wants Vince and Dave to stop talking as if they know anything about him, wants to pretend that their words don't hit a little too close to the mark. He wants Audrey to leave and take that damn photograph with her, so he won't have to look at it anymore and imagine what could have been.

"We are done," Duke says levelly, and he's trying very hard not to let his anger seep into his voice. "I don't need anyone to clean up my life. I am doing just fine on my own, thank you very much." He points to Vince and Dave. "The two of you are going to leave now."

Vince looks up at him with alarm. "Oh, goodness," he says. "We certainly didn't mean to cause a fight."

"Of course, you didn't," Duke snaps. "You're just doing what you always do – being tactless and calling it honest."

It doesn't really surprise him when Dave leans right up into his personal space. "The truth hurts, doesn't it?" he asks, looking pleased with himself, the querulous, little codger.

"If you don't get out of here, something will, alright."

"Okay. Everybody calm down." Audrey puts a hand on his arm, at the same time that Vince pulls Dave back by his shoulders. "It's been a really long day. Why don't we just call it a night?"

"That's probably a good idea," Vince says, while Dave is still looking at him smugly, and Duke can practically see the morning edition's headline flash before his eyes. His days of the Herald making him look like a decent person will be over before they really began.

Not that he cares. He knows who he is, and he's always been okay with that. For the most part.

And the other parts... well, he doesn't really let those get to him. Even if they seem to take up more of his life now that his own Trouble is active. It just... it rankles him, is what it does.

It's not as if Vince and Dave have all that much moral high ground to stand on, with all the secrets they're keeping – riding on their high horse, sharing their knowledge only when it suits them or they're running out of options, and the body count gets too high.

And to have them judge him? At least, he's honest about who he is. He doesn't try to put on a veneer of respectability like they do. And he doesn't need them to rub his nose in the fact that Audrey would never give someone like him the time of day. He already knows that she deserves someone who's far more steady and settled than he is. Someone like Nathan, who'll get her coffee in the morning and coax her onto a couch in the evening to watch Netflix and have a glass of wine, so she can relax for five damn minutes.

He knows that his own life is far too tumultuous for someone like her, not to mention that his business endeavors not just skirt, but frequently traverse, the lines of legality.

Yes, Audrey deserves better, but he'll be damned if he takes Dave's hypocrisy in stride.

So, when Dave tears himself out of his brother's grasp and stabs a finger into his chest while telling him that he better treat Audrey right, Duke takes a hold of him by the lapel's of his jacket, and forces Dave onto his toes.

"You don't touch me Dave," he tells him, thunder rolling in his voice. "Not ever. Do you hear me?"

"Duke!" Audrey is glaring at him and pries Dave out of his grasp. "That's enough."

"It'll be enough when they're gone." he grumbles but there's no longer any heat in it.

"Duke." There's a warning in Audrey's tone, and he grinds his jaws together.

"Fine. Whatever."

"Oh, dear. Oh, dear." Vince frets. He has turned pale, and his gaze darts anxiously between the two of them. "We didn't mean to make you fight."

Even Dave seems curiously mellow all of a sudden. "Yes, that was not our intention. Please, can't you just..." he fidgets nervously and adjust his glasses. "... kiss and make up?"

Duke looks at him incredulously. "No," he says slowly. "We won't kiss and make up."

To his dismay, Vince's complexion loses even more color.

"We're fine," he hurries to assure them. "Couples argue every day. It doesn't mean anything."

"Oh, you say that now," Vince says, obviously unconvinced. "But small fights turn into big ones, and before you know it, the two of you are going to break up, and we couldn't live with ourselves, knowing that we're responsible for that. Please. You love each other so very much. You can't let a little fight like this came between you."

"But we're not," he says flabbergasted. "Audrey and I have no intention of breaking up."

"Prove it," Dave demands, and Duke is alarmed to note, that his face, too, is pasty and gray. "Go on. Kiss her, Duke. Tell her you love her."

He's at a loss. A Trouble causing heart attacks when he and Audrey deny being in a relationship is one thing, but that same Trouble escalating to them having to outright prove that they're in love?

There's a nagging feeling in the bottom of his stomach that this might get a whole lot worse, before it'll get better.

As always, Audrey, is three steps ahead of him. She snuggles up against his side and presses her lips to the underside of his chin, and even though Duke knows it doesn't actually happen like that, that it's the stuff of romance novels and badly written romcoms, he swears his heart stalls in his chest.

Maybe the Trouble is starting to affect him, too? He almost hopes that's the case, considering that the alternative is that he's losing whatever tenuous grasp he has on his denial about being in love with her.

"Honey?" Audrey purrs – actually purrs, dear god – her voice all low and rumbling, and there's a sharp tug low in his abdomen that makes him shift away from her when all he wants is to get closer, and damn it, damn it all to hell and back, he's so over this sodding Trouble, if Vince and Dave actually had a heart attack right now, he wouldn't even...

He sighs. Of course, he'd care. That's the whole damn problem, isn't it? He always cares too much, which, given his line of work, is pretty ironic.

Steeling himself, he looks down to her. "Sweetheart?"

Audrey fixes Dave and Vince with a facetiously stern gaze. At least their complexion has taken on a healthier tint.

"Just one kiss," she tells them. "And then you'll let us enjoy our evening."

Dave nods enthusiastically. "Of course, we will."

"We wouldn't dream of interrupting a candle light dinner. It's so romantic." Vince adds. He's back to rummaging through the contents of his bag and triumphantly pulls out a small camera. "For the morning edition?" he asks expectantly.

Duke shakes his head. "No, absolutely not."

"But we've never sold out a copy faster than the one with you and Audrey on the front page," Dave protests.

"We had to reprint," Vince says.

"Twice!" Dave is practically vibrating with excitement and seems to have forgotten all about their confrontation.

"You'd think that gas leaks and freak accidents would be enough to keep people interested." Vince says gravelly.

"But they're not. People get tired of reading about one tragedy after another. It makes them miserable. Do you know what the biggest section of the Herald is, these days? The obituaries," Dave says.

"You're exaggerating, Dave. They're not the biggest section."

"It's the one with the biggest growth since the Troubles came back. That whole bus incident that happened on the day of the harbor festival alone filled up an entire page of ads. Shaonna Soran? She worked for us every summer since she turned fourteen. I basically watched that girl grow up. She was just about to get her driver's license." And for all of Dave's cantankerous nature, there's real grief on his face now.

"Or Hettie Dawkins, who used to run the library? She just got engaged, and now she's in a coma. Who knows if she'll ever wake up again. We have to write about so much tragedy every day. Let us put the two of you on the front page again," Vince implores them. "Please. It will make people happy."

"And Lord knows, we could use more of that in Haven," Dave adds.

Knowing how personal Audrey takes it when people die because of the Troubles, Duke looks at her worriedly. There's a small, sad smile on her face, but she shakes it off and nudges him.

"Come on, Duke. Let's give Haven something good to talk about."

He looks into her warm, bright eyes and nods, before he's even fully aware he's doing it.

"Alright. Fine," he huffs, trying not to sound eager, because he definitely isn't. He's just doing this to get Vince and Dave out of his hair. That's his entire objective here. He's absolutely not going to enjoy this.

His arms come up around Audrey, and she rises onto her toes, while Vince puts the camera into position.

His hand splays against the small of her back, and suddenly her body is flush against his, the heat of her bleeding into his skin, and he's feeling a little light-headed, which he's going to put down to lack of food. He hasn't eaten in at least four, no five, it must be at least six hours, and his blood sugar is probably plummeting, and is it any wonder that he can't think straight right now? He is practically starving. He'll probably pass out any second now, if he doesn't get a piece of steak between his teeth, and then Audrey's lips brush lightly against his own, and he completely forgets that food even exists.

His entire world narrows down to the pliant softness of her mouth and the firm curve of her spine beneath his hands, and if he could stop time, he would keep the world from turning for eternity, happy to exist for the rest of his life in just this moment, when nothing else matters except him and her, and how right it feels to hold her in his arms.

All things told, it's not even a passionate kiss. It's close-mouthed and, by his standards, positively chaste, which makes it all the more embarrassing that he's short of breath when Audrey pulls back a couple of seconds later.

"Oh, that was wonderful," Vincent croons. He's flipping back and forth through the gallery on his digital camera, and Duke has to look twice, but, yep, Vince is a little misty-eyed as he's trying to find the perfect picture for the Herald's morning edition.

Dave looks over his shoulder with a scowl. "Not even a hint of tongue," he harrumphs. "I expected a bit more passion from you two."

Audrey makes a chocking sound, and Duke points towards the door. "Out," he says imperiously.

"Alright, alright, we're going," Dave grumbles.

He and Vince make their way toward the exit, saying their good byes as they shuffle past.

"We couldn't have printed any pictures with tongue anyway. The Herald is a respectable newspaper, not a tabloid," they hear Vince say just before the door closes behind them.

There is a palpable drop in tension after their departure, and Duke heaves a giant breath of relief. "Finally."

To his surprise, Audrey chuckles and rests her forehead against his chest for a second, before she pulls away from him. "If they didn't already exist. You'd have to invent them."

"Really?" he asks sceptically.

Audrey just looks at him, and then they're both laughing quietly.

He combs a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the sudden awkwardness. "So, we have a choice to make," he says trying to get them back on track. "Option one, I'll cook for you whatever you want from the menu."

"And option two?"

"We have a look at the kitchen and finish whatever my cook started before I told him to go home."

"Well, it would be a shame to waste good food," she says with a smile. "And I could also use a drink."

He snaps his fingers and hurries behind the bar. "That's an excellent idea. What are you in the mood for?"

"Something sweet. With a kick."

"I like the way you think."


	4. Battle Strategies

Audrey dallies by the table and reaches for the newspaper Duke left behind.

She looks at the photograph and bites her lip, then hurries over to the bar to chase Duke's lingering taste from her mouth with whatever liquor he puts in front of her. It's getting harder to ignore that she has feelings for him, especially when the photograph taunts her with a version of reality that seems so far out of her reach that it seems laughable to even contemplate the possibility of it.

The thing that hits her hardest, whenever she sneaks a glance at it, is that she looks happy.

There haven't been many occasions since she arrived in Haven when she felt that way. Her time here seems to be comprised of rushing from one emergency to the next and days blurring into each other while she and Nathan try to figure out how to deal with the Troubles and, more recently, how to stop them altogether.

Rationally, she knows that that assessment is highly subjective, and she tries to remind herself that there have been moments when she allowed herself to kick back and enjoy her time with the few friends she's made in Haven, such as the poker games with Duke and Julia, (Before Julia died.) or the time she and Nathan strolled across the farmer's market, (Before Bill McShaw's Trouble spoiled all the food later that morning.) or the day Duke took her to Carpenter's Knot, where he and Nathan surprised her with a birthday party. (Before a shape-shifter killed one of her friends, took her own form and locked her in a trunk.)

She sighs ruefully. Maybe that assessment is not so subjective after all.

Hard as she tries, she can't seem to find a happy memory that's not somehow tinged with fear or sorrow, and deep in her gut, she knows that that's wrong, that it can't really be true, that she's just tired and worried, and she thinks that – even though the tender moment in the photograph didn't actually happen – it wouldn't be the worst idea to get a visual reminder of the good moments she experienced in Haven more often.

To that end, she pulls her phone out of the ridiculously large pockets of Nathan's sweat pants, and takes a picture of Duke, who's contemplating the bottles on the top shelves. It doesn't bother her that he has his back to her, because it is a very fine back, and she likes looking at it quiet a bit, so she takes the opportunity to let her eyes follow the curve of his shoulder down to his narrow waist, without him being any the wiser about the not so minor infatuation that she nurses for him.

"I'm pretty sure, I still have a bottle of fifty year old Ron Santiago knocking around back here." he says distractedly as he dismisses the liquor on the shelves and crouches down behind the bar. "Got it on my latest run to Cuba."

"Cuba? Really?" Audrey asks with narrowed eyes.

His head pops back up over the counter. "Did I say Cuba? Because I meant Florida," he corrects himself with a disarming smile. "Not the real thing, obviously. But a very high-end knock-off. Tastes just as good."

"Mhmmh, and when you say 'knock-off,' do you, by any chance, mean 'counterfeit'?"

She's just teasing him, but it's unexpectedly fun, especially when he quickly tries to hide the bottle he held out to her behind his back like a boy hiding the cookie he stole from the kitchen jar.

"Of course not." And she can see him visibly shift gears as he leans forward across the bar and sighs dramatically.

"You know, it's a little hurtful that you always think the worst of me," he says with a flirtatious glance from beneath his unreasonably long, dark lashes, and Audrey would be lying if she claimed that that look has no effect on her – that it doesn't make her abdomen flood with warmth in a way to which no liquor can compare.

She wonders, not for the first time, what would happen, if she kissed him – really kissed him, not just pressed her lips demurely against his while they pose for a photograph – with her mouth slanting against his, and her tongue delving into the soft, wet warmth beyond. _Would he taste of rum?_ she wonders. Or an even more heady mixture of sweet liquor and salty sea air that would leave her light-headed with her toes curling inside her boots?

She parks herself on a bar stool and leans in, until her face is only inches from his.

"Well then, is there anything in particular you'd like me to think about, when I think of you?" she asks. She deliberately pitches her voice low, and is rewarded with his eyes going wide, and his gaze darting down to her mouth.

The tension is back in the room, crackling like a life current between them, and she holds her breath, waiting for him to close the distance between them.

He doesn't.

Instead, he pulls back, and Audrey feels a flush of embarrassment steal onto her cheeks.

"I would like you to remember all the times I helped you out," he says with an easy smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "You and Nathan, that is. Nathan, who is currently lying in the hospital, waiting for you – for us – to solve this Trouble so the two of you can figure out how the barn works. So you won't have to leave."

He retreats towards the kitchen while he speaks, and Audrey can't shake the impression that she just made a huge mistake.

"And in the spirit of helping you out," Duke continues with a flourish, indicating the pots and pans she can just glimpse beyond the open door, "may I tempt you with Haven's best surf 'n' turf, one hundred percent locally sourced, no illegal imports, guaranteed."

"Yeah. That– that sounds great," she replies, and then she rests her forehead on the counter, the second Duke turns his back to her. As much as she appreciates him trying to gloss over the awkwardness, it only makes it worse. She feels awful and bites back a groan as she wills the heat to dissipate from her cheeks..

It's probably for the best, she reasons. She has no idea if she'll even be here three weeks from now. It would be foolish to start something that will only end painfully.

 _Yes_ , she chastises herself silently. _Flirting with Duke was a stupid idea._

It's just this ridiculous Trouble messing with her self-control. She should probably thank Duke for not taking her up on her wordless offer. Except that it would make things even more awkward, so she won't. Best to pretend it never happened in the first place.

They need to push two tables together to spread out all the dishes that were left simmering on the stove, and Audrey didn't actually realize just how hungry she was until the first bite of shrimp dipped in lemon vinaigrette melts on her tongue.

They don't talk while they sample the food – piling freshly sauteed vegetables and lobster on their plates – but gradually the knot in Audrey's stomach unravels, and if there's color in her cheeks, it's because of her enjoyment of the chilli and bell pepper sauce that she used liberally to cover her steak, and not because she's uncomfortable about what happened at the bar counter.

In fact, when she finally pushes her plate away, Duke makes an effort to be charming, a feat that seems to come easy for him even on the worst of days. He regales her with outrageous stories about his customers, while they pack up the leftovers, wipe down the kitchen, and leave the industrial dish washer to do it's work.

Audrey snags the bottle of Ron Santiago de Cuba from behind the bar counter, and studiously ignores Duke's smug grin as she pours them two tumblers. She falls back into her seat and pushes one of them across the table while she tries to arrange her feet around where his long legs are sprawled out.

"You're man-spreading," she accuses him, and he laughs, but he does bend his knees to give her more room.

"So, who do you think wants us to be together so badly that they altered the memories of an entire town in order to make it happen," he wonders out loud. He's idly swirling his rum in its glass and doesn't seem to be in any hurry to drink it.

Audrey shrugs. "I'm not sure it's us they want to be together. Maybe any two people would have done, and we just got lucky because we were out of town?"

Duke purses his lips. "I don't think so. There are a lot of people who went out of town. For fishing, for work, I think Melly... my cook," he clarifies, "mentioned a school trip to Campobello, plus there's that damn photograph in the Herald.

Taking a sip of the rum, Audrey takes a moment to appreciate the rich taste and fragrance that unfurls across her senses.

"See, that's exactly the thing that I can't figure out. The photograph was taken three days ago, but the actual Trouble only kicked in this afternoon." She leans forward excitedly. "There has to be something significant about that time difference."

"Maybe whoever is Troubled only saw the photograph today..."

"The photograph isn't real," she reminds him. "We never met at the harbor fesitval."

Duke stretches his long torso so he can fish the newspaper from the counter without getting up. The hem of his shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of tan skin and firm, delicious muscle, and Audrey's mouth goes dry. She blindly reaches for the bottle and pulls at the collar of her shirt.

It's not fair, she curses inwardly. For months, she refused to let his ridiculously tussled hair and rascal charm affect her, and now that she has kissed him once, her stupid hormones are apparently getting the better of her.

It's a small mercy that Duke appears completely oblivious to her reaction, even though her eyes linger on his body far too long before she gets a hold of herself.

She fills up her glass, while Duke spreads out the newspaper between then, and tosses the liquid back with a quickness that is sacrilegious in view of the liquor's quality. Judging by Duke's wide-eyed stare as she coughs through the burn, he certainly seems to think so.

"Slow down there, partner. That's a fifteen hundred dollar bottle of rum," he says, in a tone of voice befitting a thoroughly scandalized connoisseur, and now Audrey's coughing for a different reason altogether.

"Fifteen hundred! Are you kidding me?"

"Nope. Planned to save it for a special occasion."

"And this..." she gestures vaguely between them," ... qualifies?"

He doesn't answer her, but there's a flush rising up his neck which gives her pause.

"Anyway," he says as he smooths his palms over the wrinkled edition of the Herald, "what if the photograph is real? What if there just used to be another couple in it? I mean, I don't really read the Herald, I mostly keep a copy here for tourists, who like to catch up on some local news, but I know that the bus crash really happened."

He flips the paper and shows her the story spanning the entire lower half of the front page. "And that editorial about banning dogs from public parks, that didn't change, because I heard Vince and Dave argue about it with another customer when they were here yesterday."

"Okay," Audrey agrees while she tries to order her thoughts. "So, as far as we know, nothing changed, except the photograph and the story Vince and Dave wrote to go along with it. So if that story and photograph was about another couple, than we're looking for someone who knows them but didn't know that they were in love until they saw the paper this afternoon."

Duke nods. "An ex, maybe, or someone who had an unrequited crush on one of them..."

"No. No wait. That doesn't make any sense," she rubs her fingers against her forehead. "If their Trouble kicked in because they didn't want that couple to be together, wouldn't it make more sense for the Trouble to just keep them apart somehow? I mean, what are they really gaining by replacing them with us? For all we know, that couple could still be together, happily oblivious that they were ever front page news."

Duke momentarily slumps back into his seat. "You're right."

"So what if it's the opposite?" Audrey asks. "Troubles are triggered by strong emotions. Sure, it could be jealousy, but what if it's a broken heart?”

"You think the couple is no longer together?" Duke huffs a breath. "That's a quick break-up."

His eyes stray to the photograph. "If this is an exact copy of the original photograph... I mean, we... _they_ look really happy." He swallows. "They look like they're in love."

Audrey bites her lip. "What if it's grief?" she asks quietly and wills herself not to interpret anything into his wistful expression. As it is, it already gets far deeper under her skin than she likes to admit.

Duke's eyes find hers across the table. There's an indecipherable look in his warm, brown eyes that holds her captive, and she's feels herself falling into it with an inevitability that should be frightening, but somehow isn't.

"You think one of them died after that photograph was taken," he says with a voice that's rough and deep and carries far too many emotions for her to sort out, but it feels almost as if the ghostly shape of the barn hovers between them, and with it a promise of goodbyes that neither of them wants to say.

She clears her throat and looks away.

"One or both of them," she says around a dry tongue that feels alien inside her own mouth. "That bus crash happened later that afternoon. It's been three days. Maybe the funeral was today? Maybe that's what triggered it? A relative who struggled with the loss."

Duke gets up and retrieves a small stack of newspapers from a side table by the patio doors.

“The Herald from the last few days,” he explains when Audrey reaches for them.

She flips through the papers until she finds the obituaries. Seven people died on the bus. Audrey remembers arriving on the scene and finding the vehicle as little more than a burned out husk.

"There aren't any couples listed here," Audrey says. "But there are four people who are survived by their spouses." Duke frowns pensively. He's still reading the article on the front page. "There's also the woman Dave mentioned – Hettie Dawkins – who is one of three survivors, though as he said, she's in a coma. Apparently, she just got engaged at the age of..." he does a quick mental calculation, "... seventy-two. I'm impressed.”

Then his eyes snap to hers at the same time Audrey's spine begins to tingle.

"You know what we completely forgot to take into consideration?" he asks her.

"The old man we pulled out of the water," Audrey replies at the same time so their words get tangled up in each other. "I asked Stan to run his prints because he had no ID, but it's not a priority."

Duke waggles his eyebrows at her, and she nods, already reaching for her phone. "Yeah, we should probably change that."

She calls Stan, who thankfully hasn't gone home, yet, and tells him to put a rush on the prints.

Following an impulse, she suggests that the information is vitally important to her and Duke's happiness.

She only feels a little bit guilty about that when Stan proverbially falls all over himself to assure her that he will get it done right away. Since she did the exact opposite of disputing that she and Duke are together, she's sure that it won't cause him any harm.

Duke grins and shakes his head. "Officer Parker," he drawls. "I never knew you had a naughty streak."

There's a flirtatious reply on the tip of her tongue, but with the memory of how that turned out the last time still fresh in her mind, she swallows it.

"It's too bad neither of us actually reads the Herald," she says instead. "This would have been a whole lot easier, if at least one of us had seen the original photograph."

Duke nods thoughtfully. "What are we going to do if the guy we pulled out of the water turns out to be a dead end?"

"They we'll have to talk to the relatives of everyone else who died that day. See if any of them were at the harbor festival," she replies while she dials the hospital.

There's no news on Claire or Nathan; their condition remains unchanged. The man whose life she and Duke saved this afternoon is also still unconscious, and Audrey let's the nurse on the other end of the line known that she wants to be notified the minute he wakes up.

"No matter how late or early it is, okay? Please call me immediately. It's important."

"I'll pass it on to the night shift," the nurse replies.

"Thank you."

She disconnects the call and takes a deep breath. Her gaze skims across the digital clock on her phone.

"You know, it's not all that late. We– I could get started on interviewing those relatives tonight. See if I can come up with another lead."

She nods to herself, and starts digging for her car keys.

She may be feeling a little worn around the edges, but that's no reason to give up now. She can probably push through it once she gets some coffee into her stomach, and there's a twenty-four hour coffee shop near the harbor, so she doesn't even have to ask Duke to turn on the coffee maker for her.

There's a scraping sound when Duke pushes his chair back, but it's not quite loud enough to cover up his exasperated sigh.

"Audrey?"

Her fingers finally close around the keys when she looks up at him. "Yes?"

"When did you get up this morning?"

She frowns . "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just... answer the question. Please?"

"Around four, I guess. I was called in on a dead body up on Porter and Main."

"So you've been on your feet for eighteen hours. Don't you think it's time you called it a night and got some rest?"

Her hands clench around her keys. There's a part of her that wants to do just that, that wants to crawl into her bed, pull the blanket over her head, and just sleep, but she needs to solve this Trouble.

It's a distraction. Not only does it mess with her emotions far more than she likes to admit, but it takes up time – it _wastes_ time, and she doesn't have much of it left.

It's running out, and there's nothing she can do to stop it. Every minute she stands here and doesn't do anything, is another minute she spends waiting, and she _hates_ waiting, hates being on the back foot, forced to react, instead of taking the initiative. Sometimes, it feels as if all she's done since she came to Haven is exactly that, caught up in the Troubles as if they're wild water rapids and she's sitting in a boat without oars or a rudder.

"I don't like to wait," she says, only it sounds a little bit choked as if there isn't quite enough air inside her lungs to form the words, and she doesn't understand why her throat is suddenly so damn tight, or why she can't breathe, or why her eyes are burning.

There's an alarmed expression on Duke's face when he reaches for her, but she's already back-paddling, trying to keep as much distance between them as she can.

"This was a mistake," she says, and she hates how unsteady her voice sounds. "I shouldn't have wasted so much time over diner. I shouldn't have gotten caught up in all of this." She presses her palms against her eyes and sucks in a breath through her nose, struggling for composure, "It was stupid."

"Hey, now," he says quietly and closes the distance between them as she tugs her heir behind her ears.

"Why would you say that? We went from having no idea what was going on to having some actual leads. The way I see it, having diner was time well spent."

He leans down and touches her shoulder the same way he had on their return trip from the cliff top. There is something soft and gentle in his eyes, and Audrey looks away and balls her hands into fists, so she won't reach out and hold on to him.

"You can't save Haven by working yourself to the bone, Audrey. This isn't worth dying for."

Her gaze flies up to his face, and she sees him cringe, and she knows that he's thinking about the barn, and how she's going to lose her memories and any sense of who she is, should she decide to walk inside.

A metaphorical death, but a death nonetheless.

"What if that's the only way to end the Troubles? To make all this suffering and fear go away?" she asks haltingly.

To her surprise, his expression turns hard with resolve. "It isn't," he says with an unshakable certainty that she envies. "We already know that."

"No, we don't. If I go into the barn..."

"That won't end the Troubles," he interrupts her. His voice is hard, but his thumb brushes gently back and forth across her arm, and she swallows thickly at the compassion in his eyes. "All it will do is subdue them for twenty-seven years. That's what happened with Lucy and with Sarah, but it's not going to happen with you."

"Twenty-seven years of peace is worth more than my memories, " she starts hopelessly, but he isn't done, yet.

"It won't be twenty-seven years of peace. You've been in Haven long enough to know the politics of this town. People like the Reverend and those that believed what he preached... they don't just stop hating people because their Troubles are dormant. Ask Nathan about all the ways they used to make his life miserable while he was growing up." He cards a hand through his long hair. "Hell, I could tell you about a few ways I used to make his life hell," he admits with a guilty expression.

"You going into that barn, isn't going to turn Haven into the picture postcard town we like to pretend it is. The rot underneath will still be here, it'll just be hidden a bit better."

"People would stop dying," she argues.

He nods, conceding that point. "Yeah, there would be fewer death. Right up until the Troubles come back. Because that's also a consequence of you going into that barn, Audrey. The Troubles will come back. They'll be back in twenty-seven years, and they'll be back in fifty-four, and it will never stop. We tried– _you_ tried sacrificing yourself at least twice, and all we do is keep going in circles. Now, I don't know about you, but I think it's high time we try something else."

She fights against the pressure in her chest and wonders if Lucy and Sarah had struggled with their decisions as much as she did, and if they had anyone fighting for them to stay as hard as Duke and Nathan do. Part of her hopes they did. Another part of her doesn't want to think about what it means that they went into the barn anyway.

"I'm scared," she whispers haltingly, and it's hard – so hard – to say it out loud. "I try not to let it get to me, to focus on the things I can fix, but I'm really scared, Duke."

She can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallow heavily, and then he's nodding and pulling her against him.

"I know, but I promise you, it's not over, yet."

It surprises her how easily she falls into his arms, how calming it feels to close her eyes and just let herself breathe. He smells of ocean and pine needles, and there's an underlying hint of fish and sweat that shouldn't be pleasant, but is oddly comforting for its familiarity, for the way it is normal and human and real.

It grounds her in a different way than his words do – in a deeper way, that speaks to her instincts rather than her brain. It feels natural to nuzzle into his chest a little, to let herself melt into him until he takes some of her weight while his hands brush soothingly along the line of her back.

"Thank you," she says quietly, and she feels almost at peace when she finally lifts her head to look up at him.

His eyes are soft – so soft – that is steals her breath away.

"Yeah, well. I do have my moments," he quips.

"I know that you like to brush things off with a joke when it gets too real, so I'll let you off the hook, but it does mean a lot to me. So, thank you."

His voice is a little hoarse when he tells her that she's welcome.

"Let's call it a night," he continues in an obvious ploy to change the subject. "Grieving relatives won't look kindly on you waking them up in the middle of the night..."

"It's barely ten o'clock," she protests.

"... and besides, you've been drinking, and, being the upstanding citizen that I am, it would be unconscionable of me to let you go back out there in any professional capacity."

He briefly rubs his hands along her upper arms before he takes a step back. "Promise me, you'll try to get some sleep."

She sighs. "I would love to, but I need to go back to the marina with you first. Apparently my toothbrush is on your boat," she says with a rueful smile.

 

* * *

 

 

They drive to the marina in separate cars, and Duke sees Dwight and several people, whom he suspects to belong to the Guard, loitering around the entrance to the docks. There are at least half a dozen unfamiliar cars parked on the still wet pavement of the lot behind the harbor master's office, and his whole body tenses up when he catches a glimpse of a Guard tattoo on one woman's arm as she and two men hoist one of several metal rails off the back of a truck.

He pulls up next to Dwight and rolls down his window. "What's going on?"

Dwight gives him a curt nod, before he leans back and gives Audrey in the car behind him a much more friendly wave.

"Evening, Duke. You and Audrey turning in for the night?" he asks, and Duke is a little insulted at the blatant attempt to deflect his question.

It's not that he expects everyone to have his knack for charm and subtlety, but there's such a thing as professional pride, and Dwight isn't even making an effort.

"Dwight?"

"Yeah?"

Duke leans his head outside the window. "What are you doing here?"

Dwight puts his hands on his hips, which unfairly emphasizes just how broad his chest is.

"That's none of your business, Duke," he replies with the sort of steady look and calm confidence that makes Duke itch to mess with him.

It's a knee jerk reaction; he's never responded well to people in authority.

However, he also remembers what it feels like to have Dwight punch him squarely in the jaw, and even though he gave as good as he got that day, he can hear Audrey getting out of her car, and with their current situation in mind, he'd rather not get into another tussle today.

"Guys? What's the problem?" Audrey asks as she walks up to them.

"There is no problem," Dwight answers with a furtive look around the marina. He lowers his voice, even though there's no one but his own people who could overhear them. "We're just taking care of something."

"And what would that be?" Duke asks with a shit-eating grin, because he just can't resist yanking Dwight's chain, seeing as he's so much more forthcoming in Audrey's presence.

Dwight shoots him an irritated look, and much to Duke's annoyance silently checks with Audrey first, before he deigns to answer.

"We're getting rid of the cursed lumber from the Caulfield mill."

"The Pinocchio Trouble?" Duke asks. "I though everyone who was affected turned back into a person?"

Dwight gives him a look. "We're not calling it the Pinocchio Trouble."

" _I'm_ calling it the Pinocchio Trouble." he replies and his grin widens when Dwight rolls his eyes at him.

"The people did turn back, but the lumber is apparently still affected. We weren't able to burn it," Dwight explains to Audrey, who nods understandingly.

"Where are you taking it?" she asks.

"We'll take it out to sea and weigh it down. Make sure it doesn't come up again." He hesitantly touches Audrey's elbow, "Also, I just heard... how are Nathan and Claire?"

Audrey shakes her head with a sad smile. "No news, yet."

Duke's eyes return to the trio of Guard members who are unloading the truck. "What's with the rails?"

"We'll have timber transports coming in throughout the night. We redirected traffic away from the the coastal road, but we're going to block the intersection up ahead, too, just to be on the safe side."

"Can you wait a few minutes? Audrey is just packing up her things, before she heads back to... ah hell," he stops himself, because Dwight's entire body freezes mid-motion, and Duke already knows how this conversation is going to end.

He exchanges a loaded look with Audrey, who gives him a sympathetic smile, just as Dwight lurches forward, crowding their space. "Why are you packing your things?" he exclaims, a look of panic on his face.

"We're fine, Dwight." Audrey tries to reassure him, but his wide-eyed stare keeps flitting between them as if he doesn't believe them.

"But he said you need to pack your things. You're not moving out, are you? Oh my god, please don't tell me the two of you broke up? After less than a week?"  
  
Dwight's voice keeps rising in volume and pitch until he sounds nearly hysterical, which Duke reasons should be hilarious on a man of his stature, but he can see the color rapidly draining from his face, and Duke may sometimes be a bastard, but he's not cruel.

Besides, they've drawn the attention of the Guard, who have stopped unloading the rails and watch them with anxious expressions, and there is no way that Duke is going to stage an impromptu proposal just to get them off their back.

Though that thought does give him an idea.

"Nope. Still together," he shouts across the dock. "Still in love. Gonna get married soon."

Then he leans right into Dwight's suddenly delighted face, and tells him " _You_ won't be invited to the wedding," just as the man breathes a misty-eyed "Really?"

Audrey snorts, and Dwight's smile drops off his face like a stone cast into water.

He glares at Duke, who's annoyance with this particular Trouble seems to be inversely proportional to the depth of Dwight's scowl, if his sudden buoyancy is anything to go by.

"It's not like I want to go to _your_ wedding anyway." Dwight says with feigned nonchalance.

"Fine."

"Great."

"Awesome."

"Have a good night!"

"You, too!" Duke snaps back with a grin.

Audrey taps her knuckles twice against the door of his car. "Alright, you two. That's enough."

She puts on a good show of looking stern, but he can see the laughter hidden in her eyes as she gives him a wave. "Go on ahead. I'll catch up with you in a second."

He winks at her. "Don't keep me waiting too long, honey. I'm already gonna miss you."

"Go," she grouses.

"Every minute of every hour, I'm lonely without you-u-u," he sing-songs as he pulls away, and her exasperated groan makes him smile like a lunatic. A dopey, love-struck, hopeless lunatic.

Who is going to spend the night on his boat with Audrey.

Audrey. With him. In a small, confined space.

All night.

The smile slips off his face, like hot butter off a plate.

Fuck.


	5. Unexpected Visitors

When Audrey walks down the stairs on the Cape Rouge, she freezes in the doorway.

The last time she was here, the space looked utilitarian. Not uninhabited, but for all his scallywagging ways, Duke likes to keep his living space clean and orderly and, above all, sparsely decorated.

She remembers the wooden cabinets and long counter tops that run along both sides of the hull, the breakfast nook next to a spotless sink and tiny stove. She knows that the fitted bookshelves on the starboard side hide a secret passageway, and that the drawers on the port side hold just enough cutlery to serve four people.

The furniture is still the same. The ambiance, however, has radically shifted.

Now, every surface, nook, and cranny is stuffed with candles, animal figurines, baskets of seashells, and tiny lanterns. A fishing net spans the ceiling above the breakfast nook. Not a real one, but the flimsy, knotted kind, that's supposed to evoke a ship's rigging, billowing sails, and a bow cutting through the waves. More shells, starfish, and carved bits of driftwood are artfully tied into the netting, and a lacy tablecloth covers the table beneath it, a trio of storm lights arranged in its center.

It's hers.

All of it belongs to her.

She never realized that she owned so much... stuff.

It accumulated one piece at a time over days and weeks and months, and now it clutters up Duke's space, like so much flotsam and jetsam washing up on shore.

She's still taking it all in, when Duke emerges from the bedroom on the other side of the cabin. He's holding a pillow and folded sheets, and Audrey feels an acute sense of embarrassment when she sees the bemused expression on his face.

"I am so sorry," she says with a slight wince. "I promise, I'll get that stuff out of here, first thing tomorrow."

Duke shrugs. "Eh... it's not so bad. Not exactly my style, but it does makes the place look cozier. Kind of... homey."

He looks away quickly as if he said more than he meant to, and puts the sheets down on the cushioned bench of the breakfast nook. "It's not a big deal," he says flipping his hair back as he straightens again. "Seriously, don't worry about it."

Entering the room at last, Audrey lets her eyes trail along the assorted candles on the narrow ledge that runs above the counter tops. She walks over and picks up one that's pale blue and burned about halfway down.

"Nathan and I went to the beach one day, back when I'd just been here for a few weeks. He told me about the first time the Troubles came to Haven, or... well, the first time he remembered them, anyway. He told me about some of the things that happened, and how the Troubles affected the whole town." She pauses. "I tried to tell him that we'd figure out how to make things better this time, but he said that it would only get worse as time went by."

She trails off, lost in the memory.

"I told him that even if we can't save everyone, we need to focus on the good we _can_ do and that it's important to hold on to those memories when it becomes too much... when a case gets too dark."

She gives him a rueful smile. "That's why I started buying the candles. One for each case we solved, every Troubled person we helped."

Duke takes another look around the room, his expression indecipherable.

"That's a lot of candles, Audrey," he says quietly, and when she looks up at him, he regards her with something too close to reverence for her to hold his gaze.

She doesn't quite know why she's telling him this, when she's never told anyone before. Not even Nathan knows about the candles.

Maybe she always felt a little pretentious buying them, and she never quite figured out if it's because even a solved Trouble usually cost someone their life, or because the only thing that kept her from feeling as if she was boasting was the fact that she never told anyone about what the candles meant.

"Yes, well. Nathan and I, we have our moments," she says self-deprecatingly, recalling his own words at the Gull, but there's something tender and bright inside her chest that makes her want to lean in and bask in the look he gives her.

She quickly looks down at the candle again. "I bought this one after the Cornell case," she says reflectively.

It takes him a moment to connect the dots. "That was the banker who went after Henry, right? The doppelganger Trouble?"

"Yes. I told his copy that his life didn't have to be tied to the person he came from – that just because he woke up with the memory of Cornell committing a murder didn't make him responsible for those actions – that he could chose a different path."

Duke walks over to her. "I remember. I was there."

Her hand tightens on the candle until the wax takes on the ridges of her fingerprints. Her voice is thick as she continues. "I told him that he could be his own person. That he has a choice."

Duke's expression turns serious. "You have one, too, you know. You don't have to be the same Audrey Parker whose memories you had when you walked out of the barn. You don't have to like your coffee the same way, hell, you don't even have to stick around and help the Troubled. You can walk away from all this."

"No, I can't."

"You have a choice, Audrey."

"I know. And staying here is the choice I made. I might not know who I am, but I know who I am _not_. And I'm not someone who can walk away when I can help people." She takes a deep breath and places the candle back onto the ledge. "I'm also not someone who can leave without answers, and just pretend that none of this matters to me. I just wish that I had more time to figure it out."

There's a lump in her throat when she turns to him. "Will you promise me something?"

"Of course. Anything."

"The next time I walk out of that barn, please don't do what Chief Wuornos, what Vince and Dave did. Please don't pretend that you don't know who I am."

Duke takes a step back, and shakes his head. "Audrey..." he begins, but she cuts him off. This is too important to her not to settle.

"Please, Duke. If you're still here in twenty-seven years, tell me who I am. Don't leave me to figure it out alone – bits an pieces here and there, until it's almost too late. Tell me who Audrey Parker was."

His gaze is burning into hers. "So, you've decided, then? You'll go into the barn?"

Audrey looks away. "I don't know, yet. I don't want to. You made a pretty compelling argument. But, just in case... please, give me a chance to remember who I was, so I can decide who I want to be."

He swallows heavily and nods, but the expression on his face makes her breath hitch and her chest grow tight.

She's too scared to put a name to this feeling between them, but she can almost see it etched into their skin, a finite story of loss and regret written down in future tense, and there's nothing she wants more than to pick up a pen, cross out the ending, and rewrite it, transform it into something that is perhaps not exactly lighthearted, but hopeful enough to taste bittersweet.

For just a moment, Duke hesitates, and she can see her thoughts mirrored in his eyes, and then he's crushing her to him, his hand cradling the back of her head as he presses a kiss to her hair.

"I promise," he says thickly, his voice sounding entirely foreign and familiar at the same time.

There's enough tension in the air to make her shudder against him as she buries her face in his shirt and breathes him in, letting him ground her. She can't brush it off anymore or put it down to the current Trouble getting to her. This feels like something they've been heading towards for a long time, inexorably drawn to one another like swimmers caught by the tide.

And she shouldn't. It's a bad idea, and if she screws this up, she won't have enough time left to make it right, but in this moment, in this place, 'should' has lost all meaning. What matters is what she wants. And she wants this – wants Duke – more than she has ever wanted anything before.

She looks up at him, and he looks down at her, his gaze dark and stormy, and she feels that irresistible pull toward him that makes her lean in, feels his breath on her face, and the tension in his muscles beneath her hands.

Her eyes flutter closed...

...and there's a knock on the door.

It feels as if someone dumped a bucket full of cold water on her head.

She flinches at the sound and pulls away, not entirely sure if she's more disappointed or relived when common sense reasserts itself.

For his part, Duke is still standing motionless, eyes closed and lips pressed into a tight line. She's not sure if he would like to strangle whoever is on the other side of the door or if he is relieved that they were just saved from making a colossal mistake.

"Yes?" he calls out, irritation palpable in his voice.

The door at the top of the stairs opens, and Stan clambers down into the cabin.

"Hi," he says with a too bright smile as he looks at the two of them and fumbles for the small notepad he keeps in the back pocket of his uniform.

"Stan, what are you doing here? Did something happen to Nathan or Claire?" Audrey asks, worry making her heart beat faster.

"Oh, no," Stan hastens to reassure her. "It's nothing to do with them. I just wanted to let you know that I ran the fingerprints, and they came back as belonging to Steward Hallmond, age eighty-one, lives at 284 Maplewood Drive."

Even though he flips through his notepad, he rattles the information off without looking down. Instead, his eyes flit nervously between them, and his smile is awkwardly frozen on his face.

Audrey looks at him askance. "You could have called me," she says evenly. "There was no need to come all the way down here."

Stan blushes.

"Oh, I.. I suppose I could have, but you said it was really important, so I thought it best to deliver the news in person."

Audrey cringes a little. She probably should have known that using this Trouble to get faster results would backfire on her.

"Well, I guess that's on me, then," she says with an apologetic look towards Duke. "Thank you for stopping by, Stan. Did you inform the family?"

"Oh, yes. I did that right away. He has a daughter in Chicago. Told me she'll take the next flight up here."

"Good. If he doesn't wake up before she gets here, I need to talk to her as soon as possible." She gives him a small smile and subtly herds him towards the door. "Thank you for your help. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"I... ah... are the– are the two of you alright?" he asks worriedly.

"We're great," Duke tells him before she can reply. "Couldn't be better."

"It's just that I couldn't help but notice the sheets on that bench over there," he says nervously. "And, well... it's only natural to wonder..."

Behind her Duke groans, and she doesn't even need to turn around; she can picture the expression on his face perfectly.

"It's okay, Stan," she hastens to assure him. "We were just about to change the sheets, that's all."

Stan doesn't look entirely convinced. "Well, if– ah, if you're sure," he stammers. His feet seem rooted to the floor.

"We're absolutely sure," Duke says levelly. "Have a good night, Stan."

"Okay." Stan nods reluctantly. "Okay, then."

Audrey gives him a small wave and a gentle push towards the door. "Goodbye, Stan."

He turns towards the stairs, but turns back on the first step, rubbing a hand against his forehead.

"I'm really sorry. I know it's probably not my place, but it's just that I can't help but notice that there is a lot of tension in the room, and I'm just worried that..."

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Duke interrupts him, and before Audrey can react, he loops an arm around her waist and pulls her hard against his body.

His lips crash against hers.

There's not really any skill or even emotion in the kiss other than frustration. Their teeth knock uncomfortably together, and his mouth is static above hers.

She silently agrees with Stan. There _is_ way too much tension in the room, though, unlike mere moments before, now it's entirely the wrong kind.

She's pretty sure that this kiss won't convince Stan. It certainly wouldn't have convinced Vince and Dave.

She firmly tells herself that this is the only reason she opens her mouth to draw Duke's bottom lip between her own and pushes herself up on her toes, so she can tangle her hands in his hair.

Duke's reaction is immediate and makes her stomach flood with warmth. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat, and his grip on her back gentles. His mouth becomes pliant and soft against her own, and his body yields to her touch in a way that makes her light-headed.

She tries hard to maintain an emotional distance and focus on the logistics of kissing Duke, whose so much taller and broader and stronger than she is. (Not that any of these things make her itch to have him and all his strength tremble underneath her hands, to push him down into a mattress and cover every line and curve of his body in love bites while she rides him until they're both boneless with pleasure. She really, really doesn't think about any of that at all.)

Though when he bends down further, making it easier for her mouth to slant over his, her eyelids flutter closed, and that emotional distance? Well, she's losing a lot of ground on that.

 _He's just pretending_ , she reminds herself. _He's playing along, so Stan won't have a heart attack._

"Oh... oh, that is– that... well," Stan laughs awkwardly when they pull apart. "That was quite something." He's blushing, though whatever embarrassment he feels is not enough to make him look away.

Audrey clears her throat. It takes her a moment to regain her equilibrium, and when she turns away from Duke, she feels the loss of his warmth more acutely than seems reasonable.

"Happy now?" she asks.

She doesn't quite know what to do with her hands now that she's no longer holding on to Duke, so she pushes them into her back pockets.

Stan beams at them. "Yes," he exclaims and ducks his head. "And may I just say that..."

"...you'll forget about my parking tickets from now on?" Duke interjects.

He doesn't even get to finish the sentence, before Audrey lightly slaps the back of her hand against the hard muscles of his abdomen. He seems entirely unaffected by their kiss, and Audrey internally chides herself for her lack of self-control.

Even though, he doubles over slightly when her hand connects, he quickly plays it off, while Stan laughs awkwardly.

"That's– that's very funny, Duke. Now, you better see that you keep your nose clean, because I don't think Audrey will hesitate to use those handcuffs on you if you give her a reason."

Duke's eyebrows try to climb off his forehead at those words, while Audrey's eyes widen. The idea is... intriguing.

Stan, on the other hand, is flushing scarlet, a horrified expression settling on his face.

"No, that's not– God. I only meant– Professionally. I mean in a professional capacity. I didn't– I really didn't– I am so sorry." He tries to get up the stairs, stumbles and pulls himself back to his feet, his knuckles white around the hand rail.

Audrey rolls her eyes, and tries to ignore the smirk on Duke's face.

"It's alright, Stan." She plasters a reassuring smile onto her face. "Now, we'd really like to get some sleep..."

"Say no more," he interrupts her. "I'll get out of your hair. Have a good ni– I mean, sleep well."

He gives them a self-conscious wave, and hurries up the stairs, finally leaving them alone.

"Haven's finest," Duke comments dryly when the door falls shut behind him.

"Don't," Audrey chides. "He's a good officer. It's just this stupid Trouble that's messing with his head."

"Including ours?" Duke asks quietly.

She can't bring herself to meet his gaze. Embarrassment rushes through her when she remembers his rejection at the Gull, and even if she hates the fact that he doesn't want her the way that she wants him, she would hate losing his friendship even more.

"I think with the way people are acting around us, and... you know, with me basically counting down the days... it's only natural that emotions are going to run high."

"Right. Sure." He runs a hand through his hair and presses his lips together. "Of course. You're right. That's– that's probably all it is. That's good." He nods. "Understandable."

For a second, she thinks that there's a flash of bitterness in his face, but then his expression smooths out, and she convinces herself that she imagined it.

"Listen, I put fresh sheets on the bed, and if you want to take a shower, you need to let the water run for a few seconds before it gets hot," he says without looking at her.

Audrey squares her shoulders. Their kiss didn't mean anything. If she can still feel the heat of his body lingering against her skin, and if the taste of him still fills her mouth, and if there's a tightness in her abdomen that feels distinctly like arousal, then that's entirely her own problem. She'll just take that shower he offered, though she's not going to bother waiting for the water to get hot.

She'll be fine.

"Thank you for the fresh sheets," she says trying to shift the conversation onto more solid ground, "but I can't let you sleep out here. I'll take the bench."

"No, you won't. I might be a smuggler and a scoundrel, but I'm also a gentleman. You're taking the bed."

"The bench is tiny. I'll barely fit on it. You definitely won't."

Duke pulls out the chair from the front side of the table and places it at the end of the bench. Next, he picks up the pillow and throws it into the corner before he sits down, reclining into the breakfast nook and placing his long legs on the chair. He spreads his arms wide with a cheeky grin, like a magician inviting her to admire an impressive magic trick.

"Yeah, that looks really comfortable," she says with no small measure of sarcasm. "I especially like how your feet are hanging off the chair even though you're still sitting half upright. Be sensible. Your back is going to kill you in the morning."

"I've slept in worse places," Duke says stubbornly. He fluffs the pillow against the backrest and tries to get comfortable. "Besides, it's only for one night."

Audrey is about to argue her point, when they hear footsteps up on the deck.

Duke sits up, and they exchange a worried look. "I'm not expecting anyone," he says.

"Well, we weren't exactly expecting Stan either," Audrey replies, but her hand shifts automatically to the gun strapped to her waist.

"Hello?"

The tall woman who hesitantly walks down the stairs is young with big, brown eyes that match her skin. Her short, purple hair contrasts vividly with her dark jacket, and Audrey frowns when she recognizes hospital scrubs beneath them.

"Can we help you?" Duke asks from his seat on the bench.

"It's the other way around, actually. I'm Tara Brice. I'm a nurse over at Haven General. We talked on the phone earlier."

"I remember. I asked you to call if Nathan or Claire woke up." Audrey pauses. " _Did they_ wake up?"

Tara smiles brightly at her. "Yes, they both regained consciousness just before my shift ended, and... well. I thought I'd hop over here on my way home and tell you in person."

Audrey presses her lips together. As relived as she is that Nathan and Claire are awake, she can't help but wonder if there will be any other visitors tonight who'll try to check in on them.

They really need to end this Trouble.

"That is very good to hear," Duke replies smoothly, and she can hear the relief in his voice, though his words are stilted. "Audrey and I are very grateful that you came all the way out here. Thank you so much for all your help, but please don't let us keep you from whatever plans you made this evening."

"Oh, I haven't made any plans," Tara replies, waving off his concern. "I was just going to crash on the couch and..." she trails off, her smile suddenly dropping off her face. "Why are _you_ sleeping on the couch... or bench or whatever that is?"

Duke groans and flops backwards. He grabs the pillow and covers his face with it.

Tara looks to Audrey for reassurance. "Are the two of you okay? I saw your picture in the Herald the other day, and, well... you looked so adorable together. To be honest, that's part of the reason why I came by. I really wanted to meet you."

Audrey forces a smile onto her face, but even she can tell that it's less than convincing.

Even though she knows that Tara is just here because she's affected by the Trouble, it's getting harder to play along with it. She's been on her feet for almost twenty hours, and so many things have happened between the crime scene this morning and Tara showing up on the Cape Rouge, that Audrey feels as if her emotions have spent the better part of the day trapped on a roller coaster ride, leaving her dizzy and exhausted and with the overwhelming need to lie down and forget this day ever happened.

She presses two fingers to the spot between her eyebrows and tries to rub the dull ache away that settled there.

"That's very sweet of you," she says while she tries to come up with an explanation for why Duke is sleeping on the bench. "The thing is..."

"I snore," Duke interrupts her.

He shrugs, when they turn towards him. "Loudly. It's a sinus things, you'd probably know more about it than I do," he says, addressing Tara.

"Ah... yes," Audrey hastens to agree. "And we've both had a really long day, so Duke – being the sweetheart that he is – offered to sleep on the bench."

"And you let him?" Tara sounds scandalized.

Nonplussed, Audrey exchanges a look with Duke, who only shrugs again.

"Uhm.. yes?"

"But that bench if far too small for him."

"That's what I said."

"He can't sleep there."

"I said that, too. In fact I told him that I'd sleep on the bench, but he wouldn't listen."

It's the wrong thing to say.

Tara's eyes go wide and she stumbles backwards. "You were fighting about who gets to sleep on the bench," she says accusingly.

Duke is on his feet in an instant. "No. No, no, no. There was no fighting, okay? We were having a minor disagreement, that's all."

But Tara shakes her head. "That's almost as bad as fighting. You're going to break up, aren't you? You're not going to be able to agree on this, and you're going to break up, and it's going to be horrible. Oh my god, you can't break up. You belong together." Her voice is rising while she talks, and Audrey finds herself at her wit's end.

She knows, she's playing with fire, but she's past the point of caring.

So she does the only sensible thing she can think of to calm Tara down.

"Duke?" she calls out to get his attention, and when he turns to her, she takes two steps and jumps him.

 


	6. Playing With Fire

Duke is fairly sure that his brain just shorted out.

There's really no other explanation for the way he suddenly finds himself with Audrey in his arms, with her legs wrapped around his waist, and her mouth moving hot and assertively against his own.

There's no way this is really happening.

There's no way she's carding her hands through his hair, grabbing the strands and tugging his head back to get a better angle. There's no way her tongue is running along his bottom lip, and he sure as hell doesn't open his mouth to give her the access she's requesting or staggers back to lean against the counter when liquid heat runs down his back only to pool at the base of his spine.

Most of all, it's absolutely impossible that she moans into his mouth as if she wants him, as if she'd like to kiss him until they both run out of air.

Even though he's pretty sure he must be imagining all of it, it doesn't stop him from eagerly swallowing the sounds she makes and tightening his arms around her in order to settle her more securely against his waist. His mind might be reeling, but his body doesn't care. So, he kisses her back like a drowning man, the way he always imagined kissing her, deep and slow, savoring every slide of her mouth across his, every heartbeat of hers that echoes inside his chest.

He's too tired for pretenses, and kissing Audrey – kissing her for real, nothing held back, no shields to hide behind – feels a little like jumping off a cliff without a parachute. He still doesn't know if he's going to sprout wings or plummet to the ground by the time she pulls back, but he won't pretend that he didn't get a kick out of the fall.

There's enough adrenalin coursing through him that he could pull out entire trees by their roots, and when she angles her face to press a kiss to the underside of his chin, he lets his head dip back against the cabinet behind him.

Breathing deeply, he cradles the back of her head, and he's not ashamed of the deep and needy sound that tumbles from his lips when she sucks his skin into her mouth, and he feels the sting of her teeth marking him lightly, claiming him for her own.

"I'll... uhm... I'll just go then."

Tara's embarrassed voice barely registers, and it's an effort to focus on her footsteps when she retreats up the stairs.

Audrey, however pulls back abruptly, and he can't quite bite back on the involuntary sound of protest that rises in his chest.

To his consternation, she releases her hold on him altogether, sliding back to the ground, all the while his mind is in a stupor.

"I'm sorry about that," she says, and he can't do anything but gape at her.

"You're sorry?" he finally manages to repeat, aghast.

She blushes, and what's even worse, she won't look at him at all.

"I got a little carried away there," she says quietly. "I didn't mean to make things awkward."

It takes every last shred of self-control he has not to reach for her. It takes even more not to say something really, really stupid such as "Screw this Trouble. I'm right here. Take me, if you want me."

He does none of these things. Instead, he stalks up the stairs and bolts the door. "It's fine. Don't worry about it," he calls back to her, and then he rest his forehead against the cold metal and takes a deep breath.

It's okay. He can absolutey forget that the last five minutes happened.

All evening, he told himself that he doesn't lead the kind of life that lends itself to maintaining a steady relationship. Relationships are work, he's not fool enough to pretend otherwise. They might be worth it, but that's beside the point. He's Duke Crocker, smuggler and opportunist, someone with a fast mouth and faster hands, who always keeps his options open.

Nathan is the one who's willing to put in the work, who's steady and reliable. He, on the other hand, is the guy who makes people laugh, who makes sure everyone has a good time, right up until they walk out the door and leave.

He doesn't do awkward. If he catches so much as a whiff of awkward, Duke gets the hell out of dodge – or puts a disarming smile on his face and makes a joke.

He can do that. He can keep being that guy. He can get his head on straight and stop pining for a women, who wouldn't ever touch him, if it wasn't for a damn Trouble that made her get 'a little carried away'.

He can do this.

He comes back down the stairs and closes the second door at the bottom before he turns back to Audrey with what he hopes is his customary mischievous smile.

"You know, I like you. I really do, but just so we're clear; I'm not having sex with you in public. I mean, I'm kinky, but I'm not that kinky."

It takes Audrey a second or two before she can reply, and he'd be lying if he didn't get a tiny little jolt of satisfaction out of seeing her obviously struggling for words.

He nods to himself.

The old Duke is back. That's good. That's absolutely fantastic.

"I don't think it'll get that far," she says with a faint blush and a bemused look.

"Are you sure? Because, it kinda looks as if this Trouble keeps escalating on us."

He can see that his word give her pause. "Well, we can just... stage an impromptu wedding, if necessary."

"You know, you might hate me a little for saying this, and I won't blame you, considering how I reacted at the time, but in this particular case, I'm glad we won't have to ask Reverend Driscoll for his blessings."

Audrey closes her eyes, and a pained expression comes over her face. "God. Duke."

"Too soon?" he asks as he walks past her.

"It'll never be _not_ too soon to remind me of that."

She's probably right.

He picks up the sheets and pillow and heads for the bedroom.

"What are you doing?" Audrey calls after him.

He turns around, but keeps walking backwards. Maybe, he's not quite as much of a gentlemen as he claims to be.

"I decided that you're right. That bench is too small for me. Luckily, my bed is big enough for two."

Giving her a wink, he turns back around, and hits the light switch. His shoulders absolutely do not tense as he waits for her to argue with him. He's fine; playing it cool, the way he always does. He only needs to get them through the night, and once they get to the hospital tomorrow morning this whole mess will sort itself out.

To his surprise, Audrey doesn't try to argue, but falls into step behind him.

"I suppose it'll stop any visitors from having a heart attack," she says uncertainly.

Which is when someone knocks on one of the portholes of his bedroom.

Duke whirls around, startled enough to drop the sheets.

"You've got to be kidding me," he grouses.

"Who is that?" Audrey asks, bending around him to look at the middle-aged guy who's waving at them, a tobacco pipe clamped between his lips.

"Porter Rawlings, the new harbor master. He hates me."

Audrey gives him an amused, but unsurprised look, and waits until he opens the circular window.

"I paid my demurrage, Porter," he shouts even though he's pretty sure that's not the reasons he's here.

"I know that, Duke. I just saw that you had the lights still on and figured the two of you were still up. Wanted to make sure everything's alright."

Duke feels like banging his head against the wall. "I'm sure you did." He really doesn't care under which pretext Rawlings is here, he just wants to get rid of him.

"Good evening, Mister Rawlings," Audrey calls out appearing next to him. "Do you think you could do us a favor?"

Rawlings puffs himself up like a seagull in winter. "Of course, Officer Parker. I'd be delighted to."

"Could you please make sure Duke and I aren't disturbed for the rest of the night? It would mean a lot to us."

Rawlings winks at them.

"Locals not leaving you alone?" he asks with a knowing smile.

"You've got it."

He reaches up and briefly pulls on the brim of his sailor's cap. "Aarr, shame on them for depriving you two lovebirds of some quality alone time. No worries ma'am. I'll keep an eye out. You can count on me."

Audrey makes a chocking noise behind his shoulder that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, and Duke hastily steps in front of her. "That's very kind of you, Porter. We appreciate it."

He closes the porthole without waiting for a reply, and when he turns – careful that his back blocks Audrey from Porter's view – he finds her with her hands in front of her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

"Did he really just say 'arrr'?"

Duke doesn't even try to suppress his answering smile. "Porter's been to sea most of his life. He's also part of the historical society's reenactment troupe."

"And he plays a pirate?"

"He plays _all_ the pirates."

Audrey laughs and pulls out her phone.

She calls the hospital to see if they will let her talk to Nathan.

While Duke listens with one ear to their conversation, he pushes his blankets and pillow to one side of the bed to make room for the ones he just picked up off the floor.

In light of the fact that she repeatedly apologizes for scaring Nathan into having a heart attack and has to reassure him continuously that she and Duke are very much in love, Duke can't blame her when she ends the call and decides to wait until morning before she checks up on Claire.

They take turns in the bathroom, and Duke decides to wear a tank top in addition to his shorts, though he usually goes without one. When he steps back into the bedroom – teeth and hair brushed, and a dab of cologne reapplied (The latter has nothing to do with Audrey. He just felt like it. He's an adult; he can wear cologne whenever he wants, damn it.) – he finds Audrey sitting on the bed, blanket pooling in her lap, her arms crossed underneath her chest as she scowls at the sight beyond the porthole.

"You will not believe this," she says without looking at him.

Curious, he walks over and looks out onto the dock.

As it turns out, Porter has stationed himself alongside the Cape Rouge, sitting in a chair, his feet propped up on a wooden crate, idly blowing tobacco smoke into the air. He sees Duke and gives him a cheerful wave.

Sighing, he raises his hand in reluctant greeting, before he turns back and throws himself onto the bed.

The mattress bounces underneath his weight, and Audrey snatches at her blanket. He rolls onto his side and catches the long, lingering gaze she runs across his body.

He might be throwing off the last vestiges of that gentleman label when he makes a bit of a show of stretching his muscles. Then again, it has been a long day, and his muscles are just a little bit sore, so it's not as if he's doing this solely for her benefit. Though it is kind of nice to know that even if he can't be with her, he isn't completely imagining the physical attraction between them.

"Are you done?" she finally asks, and in spite of her apparent annoyance, he can't help but notice that her eyes are glued to the long line of his torso instead of his face. He might be flexing just a little when he sits up, and he kind of wishes he'd decided against the tank top after all.

"Yep. I'm good," he says, going for a look of innocence when he scoots underneath his blanket.

Audrey narrows her eyes at him.

She turns off the lights.

Duke sighs and closes his eyes, only for every muscles in his body to freeze instantly, when Audrey snuggles up to him and rest her head against his chest.

"Can't take the chance with the Harbor Master camped right outside the window," she mumbles into his chest.

He gulps.

There's still a blanket between them, so it's not as if he can feel her skin against his, or her legs tangle with his own, but he's hyper-aware of her warmth and the weight of her body, and the way her hair is ridiculously soft against the inside of his arm.

"Right," he says tonelessly and very, very carefully wraps his arm around her shoulder.

Audrey sighs softly and rubs her cheek against his shirt, and he's sure that she's not even aware of it, that she's just tired and probably half-way asleep already, but it still send a lightning bolt through his entire body, and there's a part of him that's suddenly, alarmingly... well... solid.

Throwing his head back into the pillow, he stifles a groan and closes his eyes.

It takes him a long time to fall asleep.

 


	7. Moments of Truth

Audrey steps onto the hospital parking lot, closes the door of her car, and swallows the last bite of her bagel. It feels good to wear her own clothes again.

She throws a look over her shoulder at Duke who's getting out on the passenger side.

They haven't really talked much since they woke up curled around each other. Her blanket had ended up on the floor, the heat of Duke's body proving more than enough to keep her warm and comfortable.

She can't really remember the last time she slept this well or this deeply. To make matters worse, she didn't come to immediately, but drifted slowly into consciousness, and halfway between sleep and waking, she snuggled deeper into the curve of his body and, to her utter mortification, sleepily mumbled his name.

Her only consolation is that Duke wasn't fully awake either, though when he nuzzled the back of her neck – his nose brushing warm and soft against her pulse point – she had to work hard to stifle the treacherous moan that rose in her throat.

Though waking up came tied to the knowledge that they're not really together, the way his arms tightened around her still has her mind reeling an hour later.

While brushing her teeth, she replayed the past day inside her mind, going through every conversation, every touch, and every kiss, and she can't help but wonder, if she got it wrong – if she misinterpreted some unspoken signal, if what she perceived as rejection back at the Gull was just a misunderstanding.

Duke might be a good actor, but now that she had some rest and time to process, she doesn't believe that their kisses where fake anymore.

Of course, that could be wishful thinking.

It could also be true.

Unfortunately, the latter option brings her right back to the fact that she's living on a deadline, so even if Duke has feelings for her, it's perfectly possible that he doesn't want to admit them, seeing as she might disappear in a few days.

Which is understandable. It is, after all, the main reason, she's been trying to keep her own emotions under wraps. Though yesterday certainly threw a wrench into those works.

Whatever the truth may be, the hospital called before they left to grab breakfast, informing her that Steward Hallmond is awake. With any luck, they might even solve this Trouble within the next hour, and everything will be back to normal.

It'll be a relief.

She has almost convinced herself of this, and she resolutely ignores the voice in the back of her head that tells her that things are never that easy.

Getting breakfast at the tiny bakery at the pier had felt a bit like running a gauntlet, and the short distance from the parking lot into the hospital proves equally challenging.

The new edition of the Herald is out, and it seems as if every single person in Haven who's out and about already read it.

People are nodding and smiling at them wherever they turn, and as they make their way up the hospital steps, they are accosted by more than one random stranger who asks for an autograph or who simply wants to shake their hands and wish them well.

Audrey notes with interest that their second picture looks almost exactly like the one taken at the harbor festival. It shows Audrey with her legs wrapped around Duke's waist. (And, boy, does the sight of that make her skin tingle all over, now that she actually knows how amazing that feels.) Only the background has changed, depicting the interior of the Grey Gull instead of the band gazebo down at the marina.

Duke walks beside her and endures the attention with an air of grim resignation. He isn't even trying to joke or be charming anymore, though he does hold her hand in order to keep up appearances. He's been taciturn all morning, which just makes her more nervous as time goes by.

The words 'Duke' and 'taciturn' go about as well together as 'Haven' and 'peaceful.'

What follows is a short, if somewhat uncomfortable, conversation with the male nurse at the station desk. (He's their biggest fan, just bought a limited edition of their picture from the souvenir shop down the street. And then he shows them a white driftwood frame decorated with dried lavender and tiny blue flowers displaying a copy of their picture, a small metallic plague beneath it, with the words "Haven: Home of True Love" etched above both of their names into the golden varnish.)

Audrey wishes the floor underneath her would open up and swallow her whole.

She expects Duke to be upset and say something about the violation of his personal rights, but he remains silent as he picks up the sharpie and scribbles a fake signature into the bottom corner.

In silent agreement, they head towards the stairs instead of the elevators, because being stuck with anyone in an enclosed space right now doesn't seem like a good idea.

Duke lets go of her hand the minute the door closes behind them, and Audrey, feeling the loss, rubs her palm against her thigh as she follows him.

Halfway up the stairs, the doorway below them opens again, and Audrey looks back to see an elderly Asian women looking up at them. The woman smiles brightly and gives them a cheerful wave. Behind her, two teenagers stop in the hall. They're obviously excited to see her, and begin to whisper to each other while pointing to her.

Audrey hurries around the bend.

They bypass the floor on which Nathan and Claire are recovering and head straight for Steward Hallmond's room.

Duke holds the door open for her when they leave the stairwell, and every single person in the hallway stops and turns towards them.

It's unnerving as hell.

Duke offers her his hand again, and she takes it, grateful that even this small amount of contact lessens the churning in her stomach.

The tingling sensation climbing up her spine, though, doesn't go away.

Searching for the correct room number, they hurry down the hall, trying to avoid people's gazes.

"Is it just me, or are people getting creepier?" Audrey whispers.

Duke's fingers tighten around hers, and his thumb brushes soothingly across the back of her hand. "It's not you," he replies.

They finally find the right room, when someone suddenly steps into their path.

Duke immediately stops short and pulls her behind him.

As much as Audrey appreciates the gesture, (going by the sharp pull in her stomach, she may or may not, in fact, feel more than just appreciation towards his protectiveness), between the two of them, she's the one carrying a gun. So, she steps around him and faces the charge nurse, who's look of unrestrained, childlike glee contrast sharply with her sensible blond bun and the severe line of her cheekbones.

"Oh my god, it's you. It's really you," she gushes in exactly the same tone of voice that the male nurse downstairs used.

"We're here to see Steward Hallmond. It's urgent," Audrey says quickly and puts a hand on the nurse's arm. "We would consider it a personal favor, if you'd make sure that we are not disturbed while we talk to him. It would really mean a lot to Duke and me."

A faint blush rises to the nurse's round cheeks. "Of course. I will see to it personally." She points towards the door behind them. "His daughter just arrived a few moments ago, but I'm sure they won't mind if you walk right in."

Audrey gives her a bright smile. If the rest of the day continues like this, her face will be permanently frozen with it.

"Thank you so much. That's very kind of you."

"Oh, please don't mention it. Anything for the two of you." She puts a hand to her own cheek as if checking for her temperature. "You've brought so much joy to our lives."

"Happy to help," Duke chimes in, and even though the nurse gives him a slightly puzzled look at the hint of irony in his tone, Audrey is just glad that he's no longer silent.

She quickly opens the door and pulls him through it. A small crowd of smiling people has formed behind the nurse, and the tingling between Audrey's shoulder blades turns into a dull, throbbing ache.

She quickly closes the door.

"You're getting really good at handling these people," Duke says quietly. He looks a little guilty at the admission. "I'm sorry. I should be helping you. I'll get my shit together, I promise."

She would really like to know what shit exactly he's talking about, but a voice from the other end of the room reminds them that they are not alone.

"I'm sorry, but... who are you, exactly?"

A bewildered look passes between them, before they turn towards the tall, dark-haired woman, who looks at them with piercing eyes.

"You mean, you don't know us?" Audrey asks.

"You never heard of Audrey Parker, Duke Crocker and their love for the ages?" Duke adds, and Audrey feels her lips twitch at the hopeful note in his voice.

Marissa Hallmond gives him a dubious look. "No. I can't say that I have."

She's about to get up from the chair beside her father's bed, when Steward Hallmond gently pats her hand. "It's alright, dear. I'm afraid, this is my fault."

His face looks pale and sunken within the depth of the voluminous pillow, the only color in his face stemming from the dark circles underneath his eyes. His short, white hair fans out around the crown of his head, unkempt and wispy.

"You see, my Trouble doesn't affect the people in my family," he explains in a halting voice, the words spoken so low that they have to move closer to the bed in order to understand him. "It just affects everyone around the person it targets who isn't a Hallmond."

Marissa frowns at him. "What Trouble?"

Duke steps forward. "So you know what's going on?"

Hallmond gives his daughter an apologetic smile, before he turns to Duke.

"I suspected it when I saw the picture in the Herald this morning. It's almost the same picture that the photographer took when I asked Hettie to marry me fifty-four years ago." His voice is thick with emotion when he speaks, somehow conveying both sadness and hope at the same time.

Audrey pulls up another chair so she can sit beside him.

"The article mentioned that she's in a coma," she says quietly. "Vince and Dave... they told us that you recently got engaged?"

Marissa eyes widen as her gaze darts between them.

"Is that true?" she asks. "You got engaged?”

Hallmond nods and reaches for her hand.

"I'm sorry. This will come as a bit of a shock to you, but there is so much I have to tell you.”

He gently tugs her from her chair to sit beside him.

“You see, when I left Haven, all I wanted was to forget about Hettie and my Trouble and the entire damnable mess I left behind. I never told anyone about it. And when Hettie found me... I couldn't believe that we'd actually get a second chance. I just wanted to keep our relationship to myself for a little while. That's why I never told you _why_ I moved back here."

He looks up at his daughter regretfully. "I was going to tell you after I proposed, but Hettie..." His lips compress into a thin line, and he sighs.

“They told me this morning, that her condition stabilized,” he says, addressing Audrey and Duke. There's a glint of determination in his gray eyes. “The doctors say that they have every hope she will make a full recovery, if she wakes up in the next two days. And she _will_ wake up in the next two days. My Hettie has always been a fighter.”

Audrey smiles, relief easing her anxiety. “I'm sure she is.”

Hallmond smiles back at her. "You need to know about my Trouble.”

“Yes,” Duke answers eagerly. "I mean, we've definitely seen worse Troubles, but this has to stop."

Audrey leans forward. "If you proposed to her fifty-four years ago, why didn't you get married back then?"

Hallmond sighs. "Her family disapproved."

"Why?" Duke asks.

Audrey feels him step up behind her and leans into him.

"I am eight years older than she is. Her parents thought that was too much. At least, that's what they said. They were wealthy, and my father left my mother before I was born. She worked two jobs to put me through school, and I chipped in as soon as I was able, but we only ever had enough to scrape by. I'm sure that had something to do with it as well."

He takes a few rattling breaths, and Audrey reminds herself that he nearly drowned yesterday.

"Her father and I had a fight, after I proposed. He told me to get out of town – that I wasn't good enough for her. I was so angry," he admits quietly. "I told him that I wouldn't leave without Hettie."

"But you did leave without her," Marissa says gently. "What happened?"

"Hettie heard us fight. She rushed out of the house to separate us. Her mother and her older brother tried to stop her, and I..." he presses his eyes together as if the memory is too painful. "I lost my temper. Her father got right up into my face, and I shoved him away from me. He fell and hit his head on the patio table. I... there was so much blood. I thought that I'd killed him."

"But you didn't?" Audrey asked.

Hallmond shook his head. "No, but I didn't know it back then. None of us did. Hettie's mother was calling nine-one-one, and Hettie didn't want me to get arrested. She told me to run. I was panicking."

"And that's when your Trouble kicked in?"

"Yes. I was going to turn myself in. She pleaded with me not to. And then the police pulled up. She tried to hold on to me, and I didn't want to let her go, but Jason – her brother – pulled her away from me and told me he'd take care of her. And when our hands stopped touching..." Hallmond shakes his head. "I've never tried to say this out loud before. It's so ridiculous."

Audrey shifts closer. "What is?"

"Well, as soon as our hands stopped touching, everyone started acting... strange. It was subtle at first. The police officers giving Hettie and Jason funny looks, just being really happy to meet them. Hettie's mother became weirdly unconcerned that her husband was dead – or unconscious as it turned out – on the porch...."

"Hold on," Duke interrupts him incredulously. "Just hold on. Are you trying to tell us, that your Trouble made everyone believe that Hettie was in love with her brother?"

Hallmond nods miserably. "Hettie herself wasn't affected. My Trouble never affects the person it targets. Every time someone in my family is afraid that they will lose the person they love, our Trouble latches on to someone nearby. One touch is enough, and they and whoever is standing closest to them become irrevocably linked in the minds of everyone around them. That's why her brother was suddenly convinced that he was in love with her. And everyone in town was happy for them."

Marissa stared at her father in disbelief. "I honestly don't know what to make of this story. It sounds absurd."

"Trust us," Audrey chimed in. "Haven is an absurd kind of place."

"Yeah," Duke adds flatly. "Believe me, we've seen things that are a lot more bizarre than this." He looks down at Audrey. "At least, now we know why neither one of us is affected. The Trouble targeted me..."

"... and I'm immune to the Troubles."

Duke laughs nervously. "And believe me, I am grateful for that. This could have been so much worse. I mean, can you imagine...

"Let's not," Audrey says emphatically.

"Hettie wasn't so lucky," Hallmond continues. "People, including her brother, didn't really start to get insistent until we got to the police station. We were so glad when it turned out that her father only had a concussion, that we didn't really pick up on the fact that anything was seriously wrong until Jason tried to kiss her.

"Hettie was horrified. She pushed him away, and they started arguing." He lifts his pain-filled gaze to Audrey. "And then he and everyone else who saw them fight had a heart attack. It was pandemonium when the ambulances arrived. I had no idea what was going on until my mother told me about the Trouble that runs in our family."

Audrey leans forward. "Do you have any idea how to stop it?" she asks urgently. "Three people already got hurt before we figured out how to prevent it."

"And we've been dealing with this for less than a day, and people are getting really over-invested and intrusive," Duke adds.

Hallmond presses his lips into a thin, regretful line and shakes his head.

"I am sorry. The last time, it only stopped when the Troubles ended. Within a day, people became so pushy and downright frighteningly intense about Hettie and Jason's relationship that she couldn't take it anymore. She came to see me, while I was still being held at the station to tell me that people broke into her house and tried to drag her to the hospital so she could reassure Jason that she loved him and that she would marry him right away. Two of them collapsed and died when she jumped out of her bedroom window and ran away from them.

"She didn't want to stay in Haven after that. A couple of days later her father came to see me, demanding I tell him where she went. She hadn't told me, but I promised that I would find her, if he dropped the assault charges against me." Hallmond shrugs. "He did. I left town on the same day. I did look for her, but I never found her. Instead, she found me, half a century later."

He laughs hollowly. "Apparently, the Troubles ended about a week after I left, and everyone just tried to pretend nothing ever happened. When she got back in touch with her family, they agreed to let her go to college out of state, and she eventually moved back here to work at the library. I joined the military until I settled down in Chicago thirty years ago, where I met this lovely, young lady's mother," he concludes with a fond smile towards his daughter.

"My mother died a few years ago," Marissa explains. "I was surprised when dad told me that he wanted to move back to his home town, but he'd been living like a recluse since mom's death, and I thought this could be a bit of an adventure for him."

She turns back to her father. "I wish you'd told me about Hettie. I wouldn't have begrudged you falling in love again after mom. You deserve to be loved, dad." She leans down to press a kiss to her father's forehead. "I am so glad that you found someone who makes you happy."

Audrey gets up and moves closer to Duke, giving the Hallmonds a moment alone.

Duke's expression is grim.

"This is a problem," he says quietly as he tugs her away from the bed.

She can hear muffled voices in the hallway, and there's a dull thud against the door, but no one opens it.

"I know. I can't leave town, and even if you do, everyone else would still be affected. Having to be careful with every single word I say around Nathan alone, would turn this into a nightmare." She hugs herself. "And with people potentially breaking into my home... it's just not feasible."

She can see him clench his jaw, before he reaches out to place a hand against her arm.

It surprises her that she never really noticed how affectionate Duke is, and she isn't entirely sure if she just ignored it, or if she's more aware of it now that they spent so much time together. (Time spent kissing and cuddling, a wistful little voice in the back of her mind helpfully supplies. She doesn't even bother squashing it anymore. There's no point.)

"We'll figure this out," he says low enough that only she can hear him. "You and Nathan will be alright. I promise."

Audrey blinks up at him, and the intensity in his gaze sears her to the bone. It feels like a live current stretching between them, racing along her skin and igniting every single nerve ending in her body. She could drown in the look he gives her – in the warmth and overwhelming affection of it.

Though, there's also a note of sadness in it, and that's what finally makes the puzzle pieces slot into place.

Nathan. When she flirted with Duke at the Gull, he also brought up her partner, telling her that he was waiting for her.

Duke thinks she's in love with Nathan.

A wave of fond exasperation washes over her, and she suddenly feels so much lighter, she wouldn't at all be surprised if she started to float up towards the ceiling.

"Duke," she says gently. "When you kissed me... was that real?"

He opens his mouth, shakes his head, and clenches his jaw. There's a war of emotions going on in his face, but before he can actually answer her question, Steward Hallmond speaks up.

"Of course, it was. It was pretty damn obvious how he feels about you when you fished me out of the water. I used to look at Hettie the same way."

Duke is still looking at her in silence, neither confirming nor denying anything. But his gaze scorches her with its heat, and she can feel the strain in every muscle of his body.

Apparently oblivious to what's going on between them, Hallmond continues.

"I loved Marissa's mother. I truly did. But I never stopped loving Hettie, and when I think about the fact that if I'd only gone back a month after I left town, with the Troubles gone and Hettie away at university... maybe everything would have sorted itself out. Maybe we wouldn't have spend all these years apart. We wasted so much time when we were young."

The voices in the hallway seem to get louder, and Audrey frowns as she steps closer to the bed.

"What were you doing by the reefs, yesterday?" she asks.

Hallmond sighs. "Those small islands used to be our place. It's where we went when we wanted to be alone. Before they told me that Hettie is probably going to be fine this morning... well, it had been three days, and I'd barely slept for fear of waking up to learn that she was gone. I needed to get away for a bit, to clear my head and get some fresh air.

“I kept that photograph – the original of the one that's in the paper – in my wallet, and I know it was stupid to get up – I haven't been on a boat for forty years – but I wanted to look at it. I lost my balance and fell over the side."

“You're lucky Audrey saw you. Not many people go out that way,” Duke remarks.

There's a roughness to his voice that has nothing to do with Hallmond's story and everything to do with the question he still hasn't answered.

Hallmond nods. “Believe me, I am aware of that. Thank you,” he says, sincerity and gratitude in his eyes. “If there is anything I can do to–”

The door to the hospital room suddenly bursts open, startling everyone.

The charge nurse enters. Her smile is no longer amicable, but has a tinge of mania to it that makes the pressure between Audrey's shoulder blades intensify.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt," she apologizes, though she doesn't look very apologetic at all. "But word got around that you're here, and there are so many people who would like to see you. I was wondering..."

She is interrupted when several people crowd into the door behind her. "There they are," someone shouts, and between one second and the next, Duke and Audrey find themselves backed up against a wall as dozens of people clamor for their attention.

"Good grief," Hallmond exclaims. "I am so sorry about all of this."

"It's alright," Audrey shouts back, though it really, really isn't. The nurse who greeted them downstairs is touching her shoulder and looking at his hand in awe as if she were a chimney sweep, and he was trying to make a wish come true.

She pushes him back, and Duke resolutely puts his arms around her and turns them, so she's with her back against the wall, and his body blocks her from most of the people pressing in behind him.

Immediately, a chant of 'kiss, kiss, kiss' rises up, and if being trapped in a room and being screamed at by what must be close to a hundred strangers by now wasn't utterly terrifying, Audrey would laugh at their absurdly juvenile behavior.

"Any ideas?" Duke shouts into her ear in order to be heard. He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw in a way that Audrey recognizes all too well. Whatever he's about to say next is stressing him out.

When his eyes open again, he looks tortured. "Audrey, I really don't want to have to kill this guy."

"You won't have to," she reassures him as she presses herself firmly against his body, offering him as much shelter as he does to her.

She's not blind. She saw the horrified expression on his face when Kyle Hopkins impaled himself on the knife in Duke's hand, when he learned that his Trouble called forth the ghosts of the people he buried.

Duke may like to pretend that his Trouble barely affects him, but she's aware of the terrible burden that it really is. She's also pretty sure that Duke won't be able to run away from that truth forever, but that's a problem for a different day.

Audrey nods and leans into him. "I need you to play along, okay? Just try to be convincing."

She wraps her arms around his back and kisses him.

Even though Duke does indeed play along, the kiss does not compare to the last one they shared on the Cape Rouge. Then again, few kisses would, and there are a hundred people clapping and whooping around them, which would have killed the mood had there actually been one to start with.

Audrey turns them, so her back is no longer against the wall, and when she pulls back she grasps both of Duke's hands, takes a deep breath, and sinks to one knee in front of him.

His eyes go so comically wide that Audrey has to fight down the slightly hysterical laughter that bubbles up in her throat.

"Audrey, what are you doing?" he hisses down at her as an expectant hush falls over the crowd.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she recognizes the elderly Asian lady and the two teenagers from the stairwell, and at the back of the crowd, near the door, stands a misty-eyed Nathan next to a beaming Claire and Dr. Sanderson.

Duke, meanwhile, looks ready to bolt.

"Play along," she mouths silently, before she takes a last, steadying breath.

"Duke Crocker," she intones solemnly while she tries to ignore the solid panic written all over his face. She briefly deliberates about what she should say, and how much sentimentality is warranted for this assembly, before she decides on a short, but fluffy approach.

"You are the love of my life, and I don't want to spend another day without you by my side. Will you marry me? Here? Today?"

 


	8. A Hopeful Beginning

She can feel Duke's hands tremble in her own, and as the silence stretches into awkwardness, she get seriously worried that he might simply pass out on her.

People around them are getting anxious. She can feel the rising tension drawing in around them – a restless energy that jumps from person to person, like a flat stone skimming over the surface of a lake, except where the resulting waves collide, instead of tapering off, they feed on each other building momentum as they go.

"Duke!" she hisses out of the corner of her mouth.

"Man up, son," Hallmond says sternly.

Duke blinks and snaps to sharpishly.

"Of course," he blurts out. He laughs self-consciously as he looks back towards the crowd. "Let's get married. That's a great idea. That's– boy, that sure is fantastic."

The breathless crowd erupts with cheers.

Jumping to her feet, Audrey pulls him close.

"I said 'convincing,''' she whispers mildly into his ear.

He wraps his arms around her and hides his face in the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry, but I cannot cry on cue," he says with a hint of his old cheekiness.

She pinches him in the side.

As it turns out, Duke is really, really ticklish.

(She considers this a very useful bit of information and files it away for later use.)

He twists away from her with an abrupt laugh. "Now, now," he says loud enough to be heard over the ungodly din, "I'm not that kind of guy. You'll have to keep your hands off me until you've made an honest man of me."

Audrey glares at him, but there is laughter all around them, and even the Hallmonds are not entirely unaffected by his joke.

Duke is doing what he always does, she realizes as her irritation drains away.

He's cheering her up.

He seems to have a knack for it.

Suddenly, Claire and Nathan are beside them, and Audrey finds herself enveloped in a fierce hug.

"I am so glad you came to your senses," Nathan tells her. "You had me really worried for a moment."

Audrey's smile is a little pained when she hugs him back, and her eyes find Duke across Nathan's shoulder.

"I know," she says quietly. "I'm really glad I came to my senses, too. I'm so glad that you're okay."

Though Duke is accepting Claire's well wishes, his gaze lingers on her and Nathan with an air of resignation that makes her heart ache. Now that she finally shed her own blinders, she can't quite believe she ever thought he was only pretending to be in love with her in order to fool the people around them.

She really needs to talk to him.

Though it doesn't look as if they'll get even a single moment to themselves before they are wed.

Claire steps towards her eagerly and almost pulls her off her feet when she wraps her arms around Audrey.

"I'm so happy for the two of you. Can I officiate? I got licensed last year so I could marry my cousin to his boyfriend. I can show you the certificate." She's nearly bouncing on her feet. "Oh, please say that I can get you two hitched. It would totally make my day."

Audrey checks in with Duke, who nods his assent.

Claire makes a noise that Audrey would have called a squeal if it had come from anyone else. Seeing as Claire is her friend, she calls it an exuberant, though dignified, expression of joy.

They are hustled off to the hospital chapel two floors below, people trailing behind them in an impromptu parade. There seem to be more of them with every step they take, and by the time they actually reach the chapel, half of Haven appears to have congregated at the hospital, filling the room to bursting and jockeying for position in the doorway so they can see what's going to happen next.

What _does_ happen next, is that Claire gives a mercifully short speech, before she has them say their vows. Vince and Dave, who seem to have a sixth sense for showing up where there's a story to be found, materialize by their side and organize a pair of rings. They don't even remotely match, but the citizens of Haven are far too eager to see the happy couple wed to care about trivial details like that.

In the end, Claire proclaims them husband and wife and gives Audrey a cheeky wink when she tells her that she can now kiss the groom.

Steward Hallmond leans heavily againt his daughter, but he looks genuinly touched when Audrey catches his gaze, and her instincts tell her that he knows exactly how she feels about Duke. In a weird way, she's almost grateful that his Trouble latched on to Duke. She's not sure if she'd have ever found the courage to face her feelings otherwise.

To her relief, Duke no longer seems to be caught in a silent panic. He is, however, obviously uncomfortable, and Audrey isn't sure if it's solely because he believes that she does not return his feelings, or if memories of his real marriage darken his thoughts.

The kiss they share is brief and chaste, but the emotions behind it are real, and it changes everything.

Unlike the beginning of the Trouble, which neither of them felt at all, the ending hits them like a tidal wave. It floods out over the people around them in concentric circles, with Duke and Audrey at their center. They can see the ripples washing over the crowd and catch many bewildered looks as reality reasserts itself, and Steward Hallmond's Trouble fades away.

Claire staggers and has to brace herself against the lectern. "What the hell did I just do?" she asks, apparently still rattled.

Nathan looks at Audrey, equally stunned. "Oh, wow," he says, perfectly deadpan. "You actually married Duke."

He laughs quietly and rubs the back of his head. "I think I need some time to process that."

"What is going on?" Someone asks loudly. "What just happened?"

"You don't have to," Duke tells him, ignoring the crowd. "We'll get an annulment. It's fine." He turns to Audrey. "Can we deal with that tomorrow? I need to go. I'll let the two of you catch up."

Audrey reaches for his arm. "No, wait. We need to talk."

But he steps back. "We'll talk tomorrow. I'm running late as it is." He extricates himself from her grasp and pushes his way through the dwindling crowd.

With the Trouble gone, most people can't get out of the room fast enough. Dr. Sanderson gives them a chagrined look and hastily exits the door – no doubt remembering their picture on her bedroom wall –but there are several people, who are angry and vocal and close ranks behind Duke's retreating back, demanding an explanation and the name of the person who altered their memories.

Audrey grits her teeth. It's not the first time she is reminded that Haven is a powder keg, and that not all of those who want to get rid of the Troubles care about how such a feat can be accomplished, or who will get hurt in the process.

Duke had a point when he told her that Haven will never be the picture postcard town it pretends to be.

But for better or worse, it is her home; not because someone sent her here to deal with the Troubles, but because she chose to stay – because there are people here who have her back, who stand  _with_ her and _for_ her, and who make this town worth fighting for.

There are people here she loves, and she'll be damned if she lets Duke believe otherwise.

"Duke. Wait," she calls out after him, but he's already by the door, and he doesn't turn around.

"Damn it, Duke," she shouts. "Stop being such a thick-headed ass, and get back here." She knows full well that he's not actually running late, just running away.

Nathan touches her shoulder. "Let him go," he says gently, in between dealing with two of Haven's belligerent citizens.

"No. I've let too many people go. I'm _done_ ," she replies heatedly. "I am going after him, and I'm going to kick his ass. And kiss him senseless. I haven't decided in which order, yet."

To his credit, if Nathan is taken aback by her sudden anger, he doesn't show it.

Instead, he gives her a long, searching look before he nods almost imperceptively. "Go then," he tells her in his quiet, thoughtful way, and she loves him for it – she loves to have her partner back. "I'll deal with the fallout. Drop by at the station later, if you can."

She pulls him into a brief, but powerful hug.

"Thank you."

 

* * *

 

By the time she makes it out to the parking lot, Duke is nowhere in sight, so she hops behind the wheel of her car and races back to the Cape Rouge.

Since they shared her car this morning, she gets there well before he does and settles into a chair on the sun-flooded deck.

There are still a few puddles left from last night's storm, but the furniture is dry, so Audrey retrieves some cushions and a bottle of water from their respective crates and settles in to wait.

He ignores her calls, which, truth be told, annoys her a little, though it doesn't exactly come as a surprise.

Placing her feet on the low table before her, she leans back and decides to enjoy the sun for a moment.

Her water bottle dangles loosely between her fingers as she takes deep and calming breaths. There are very few moments – too few, if she's honest – in which she allows herself to just be... to breathe and live and make herself aware that for all its troubles, big or small, Haven is beautiful.

But, instead of living, she collected candles and pushed herself to the breaking point. Last night, she considered taking photographs in order to hold on to the good moments that are rarely to be found, and never once did she wonder, if the reason for that – the reason for their apparent scarcity, for her perception that even her good memories are tainted by the Troubles – might be that her entire live consists of her work.

After all, even if there's no active Trouble to be found, there'll always be plenty of police work to go around.

She's still musing over how she's going to change that, when Duke finally steps onto his boat.

She blinks up at him, raising a hand to keep the sun out of her eyes.

His expression is carefully blank, and she seriously considers just getting up and jumping into his arms, (He would catch her. She knows, he would.) when he shoves his hands into his pockets and plants his feet, like a gladiator preparing himself for battle.

"Look, Audrey... I know you want to talk about what happened, but..."

"Actually, I was thinking about climbing you like a squirrel climbs a tree, but, sure, we can talk. Talking is good."

That shuts him right up.

He gapes at her.

Audrey tilts her head, a slow grin spreading over her face.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you speechless before. I have to say, it's a good look on you."

"Are you... The Trouble is over, right?" he asks hesitantly, and it's pretty obvious that he really doesn't know how to react to her words. "I mean, you figured it out. Everything is back to normal. What– what are you doing here? Why aren't you with Nathan?"

Audrey sits up and crosses her legs on the wide chair.

"Nathan. Right." She steels herself. "Duke, there is something about Nathan and me that you need to understand."

The way he jolts forward makes it look as if someone gave him an electric shock. "Audrey, believe me. I know all that I need to know about Nathan and you, and you don't have to worry that I'm going to read anything into..."

She throws up her hands in exasperation. "I'm in love with you, you idiot."

He freezes mid-motion, and the way his jaw all but hits the floor reminds her of a fish stranded on dry land.

She's fairly sure that he reciprocates her feelings, but he's quiet for so long that her nerves get the better of her, so she keeps talking.

"Don't get me wrong, I love Nathan. He's the best partner I could wish for. I can depend on him. He always has my back, and I trust him with my life, the same way I trust you with it. I love him, but I'm not _in love_ with him."

"You're in love with me?" Duke asks with a dazed expression on his face.

"Yes. I– You–" A groan of frustration tears out of her. "I'm bungling this up. Look, you're charming and kind, and you have a big heart, even if you don't like to admit it. You're always there when I need you. You try to make me smile, when I'm crawling up the walls, and you give me space when I need it. You just... you make me feel as if I'm welcome in your life, as if– as if there's a place for me here. And I can't even tell you how that feels – how much it means to be wanted like that."

"You're... in love with me," he repeats again as if he still can't quite believe it.

She gives him an exasperated look. "As I said. And yes, you're a bit of a scoundrel, but I like that. Besides, it's not as if I'm actually a police officer any more than I was an FBI agent. I just have the memories of one, and Chief Wuornos and Agent Howard fudged quite a bit of paper work in order to make that happen, so it's not exactly as if any of us are completely above board in terms of the legal ramific–"

He kisses her – practically jumps across the table, kneels before her chair – his long, lean, _gorgeous_ torso ensuring that they're face to face – and kisses her until she's completely out of breath.

"You're in love with me," he repeats again when they come up for air, but there's a smile on his face now as he brushes the tip of his nose against her own.

His thumbs are tenderly caressing her cheeks, and she feels that touch all the way down to her toes.

Audrey leans in and brushs her lips against the curve of his jaw.

"What Hallmond said about wasting time... I don't want to make the same mistakes he made. Actually, I realized that I've already been making them, and I have to stop. I don't want to look back and wonder about what could have been. I don't want to spend my time here being afraid of the future. I want you, Duke. I want to be with you and make whatever time I have left count, whether that's three weeks or thirty years."

One of his eyebrows twitches. "Thirty years?" he asks with a soft laugh.

She rolls her eyes. "Right. Commitment-phobe. Okay, we can look at this as a trial period, for your ease of mind, and re-evaluate after three months, because as far as I'm concerned..."

Duke is a lot smarter than he pretends to be. One of the smartest things he's ever done, is to make her stop talking when she could be kissing him instead.

Kissing him is so much more enjoyable.

To that end, she untangles her legs, and slides off her chair. The motion makes her straddle his thighs, but she's more than happy to wrap her arms around the solid mass of his chest in order to pull herself up into his lap.

Duke groans into her mouth and tightens his arms around her, until not even a sheet of paper would fit between them. The heat of his body seeps through her clothes, and for once, her mind is amazingly, wonderfully blank as she revels in the feel of him beneath her hands and the taste of him against her lips.

"Fuck. Audrey," he curses when she sucks on the sensitive skin above his pulse point.

She lifts her head. "Too much?"

"No. God no, don't stop." His hands skim over her back and further down, until he can curl them around the underside of her thighs and pull her hips against his body.

She nips at him and grinds down on the rapidly hardening erection that he presses against her and is delighted at the noise it draws from him.

"I can't– fuck, I can't believe I had myself convinced that you wanted Nathan," he gasps when he grasps her butt to give himself more leverage.

Audrey smiles against his skin and catches his mouth in a slow, deep kiss.

"Nathan is wonderful," she says quietly, "but the deceleration would be too much."

His eyebrows quirk upwards. "Oh, I see. You like a bit of 'velocity,' do you?" he asks suggestively, and before Audrey can react, he's on his feet, lifting her easily as he turns and maneuvers them carefully across the deck.

Audrey grins. "Judiciously applied, yes." She wraps her legs around his waist, in what is fast becoming a favorite position. "I like it very much."

He stops inside the door and kisses her soundly. "In that case, I'll be happy to provide."

"I had a feeling, you would," she says with a smile.

She can breathe easier now.

The barn still casts its shadow ahead, and she still doesn't know if she'll walk into it in the end. She doesn't want to, but she knows that even if it should come to that, neither Duke nor Nathan will rest before they find a way to get her back whole and sound.

In any case, no matter who she is or was or will be, she doesn't make a good damsel in distress. Whoever wants her to return to the barn, better prepare themselves for a fight, because she will not go quietly. She and Duke will be together, somehow, somewhere, and they will make every day count.

It has always served her well to trust her instincts. She will trust them with this as well.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, they get an annulment, while lying through their teeth about whether or not a consummation happened. (It happened. Several times. Handcuffs may have come into play.)
> 
> A few days after that, Duke gets in touch with one of his 'friends' from 'Florida,' and asks him for a favor. A week later, Audrey receives a belated not-wedding present. It's a bazooka.
> 
> When the barn appears they blow it sky high. In a desperate attempt to repair itself (We're going with the idea of the barn being at least partially sentient, because we can, and because season five didn't happen.) the barn draws the aether out of every Troubled person in Haven, but ultimately fails to patch itself up, because Duke planned ahead and asked his 'friend' for more than one missile.
> 
> The barn explodes, and the Troubles disappear.
> 
> A few hundred miles away, Jennifer Mason wakes up and knows that she will have a full and happy life.
> 
> Hettie wakes up and makes a full recovery. She and Steward move back to Chicago with his daughter, where they get married.
> 
> Nathan and Dwight start dating and get hitched a year later. Duke and Audrey are their witnesses. Claire officiates. 
> 
> Duke and Audrey never get remarried, but they do live in sin (lots and lots and lots of sin) happily ever after.
> 
> THE END


End file.
